


Talking Circles

by Siriex



Series: Fate AUs [2]
Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: A lot of characters not in the tags but their roles are relatively minor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body horror fluff, Enkidu is sick but what else is new, Other, This AU isn't our world but it looks a lot like it, Unbetaed and I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 34,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siriex/pseuds/Siriex
Summary: Everyone's got secrets. Enkidu keeps a few more than most, lest their twin brother fly into an over-protective frenzy.Take the guy who always stared at them in the museum for example.If Kingu found out they'd talked to him, he'd never let them leave his sight again.





	1. Lies of Omission

Secrets ran in the family. No amount of interrogation could get Enkidu and Kingu’s mothers to confess the identity of their father. Kingu never spoke of where he’d been on those late nights when he came home covered in bruises and blood that wasn’t his own. Enkidu refused to tell them how much time they had left.

The cold metal of Dr. Roman’s stethoscope withdrew from their skin, and they settled the collar of their shirt back into place. He slipped the buds out of his ears and tucked it around his neck and under his ponytail. “Everything sounds good for now. Was there anything else that you wanted to talk to me about?”

Enkidu gathered their jacket in their arms and shook their head. “If I keep Kingu waiting much longer, he’ll probably break down the door.”

Dr. Roman twisted to look at the door in mild alarm. Before he could turn back, Enkidu had already reentered his field of vision, in a rush to leave. “Are you sure? I’m sure Kingu could wait another minute or two.” He did not sound sure.

With a laugh and a wave, Enkidu disappeared from the office.

The sun outside was burning hot, and Enkidu braced themself against the contrast between the office’s air conditioning and the harsh air of summer.

Chrome reflected sunlight back into their eyes and they squinted at Kingu’s motorcycle with no small amount of malice. Its owner was leaning against one of the concrete pillars that framed the building’s doorway, completely absorbed in his phone. His hair was yanked up behind his head in a severe ponytail that kept the bulk of it off the back of his neck. Enkidu reached out and yanked it back.

In the flurry of curses that followed, Enkidu ducked three different half-hearted swings at their head and snatched up the spare helmet to block any further blows.

After the whirlwind of sibling irritation subsided, Kingu swung into the seat of his bike and pressed his head into his hands. “… How’d it go?”

“No problems!” Enkidu cheered. They hopped onto the seat behind him and braced their hands against the fuel tank. “What about you? Anything interesting?” They made to shift their weight to look over his shoulder and were met with a sharp nudge in the ribs.  

The sound of the engine starting replaced a reply Kingu was not willing to give.

Enkidu huffed a sigh and knocked their helmet between his shoulder blades. The ride to their apartment was uneventful. Though they’d ridden Kingu’s bike hundreds of times, he still made a point of helping them down, and they returned the favor by making an exaggerated attempt to open the door for him.

Five feet of jostling through the front entrance, and Enkidu shut themself in their bedroom. It was not big, but it was a wonder they had it at all. The combined income of two college students was hardly enough to afford a two-bedroom apartment in a small city. Their mutual student loans lightened the burden, but only just. Enkidu discarded their shirt and jeans on the floor and pulled one of their work shirts out of their IKEA dresser.  

Black slacks, black collared shirt. It felt uncomfortably restrictive, but Enkidu’d had a year and a half to learn to tolerate it. They yanked on the clothing and shoved a book into their bag before bolting out the door. Kingu’d made himself comfortable on their secondhand couch, tapping furiously at his phone. “I’m heading out!”

He grunted.

That was probably the most they were going to get out of him. They rolled their eyes and set out.

Their place of employment was two miles from their apartment in a very different area of town. It was not the kind of place that the omnipresent college students or their professors could afford to eat at. Its most frequent customers were tech gurus and entrepreneurs looking to celebrate promotions, birthdays, and business deals. Enkidu had overheard any number of things they were not supposed to know, but they had no particular use for the information.

Enkidu anticipated overhearing at least one of those conversations that night. Thursdays were relatively deserted and perfect for people interested in having covert conversations over food. They arrived around fifteen minutes before their shift started.

The kitchen was already abuzz with activity. Touta and Shirou danced around each other like they’d been training for years, though the latter was a relatively recent hire.

Fulanah Hassan, scarf wrapped tight around her head and frown set firmly on her lips, pushed past them into the back room.

Enkidu flinched and turned to Shirou. “Rough day already?”

“Customer’s sent back the steak three times,” he said by way of an answer.

Touta turned away from his pots and shot the break room a sympathetic smile. “Would you mind taking her table from her? I’m worried we’ll have a murder on our hands if this keeps up.”

Enkidu weighed their potential responses. They did want to help her. She’d been nothing but kind to them and they were also aware that she had a chip on her shoulder; more-so than them, less-so than their brother. Of the two servers on shift, they were the better choice to handle difficult customers. “Give me a minute?”

Touta waved and pivoted back to the stove.

The back room was dark, though Enkidu was sure they’d left the light on after dropping off their bag. Fulanah’s bright eyes stared down at her lap. They could just barely make out how her knuckles were white against the fabric of her pants.

Enkidu kept their voice low like they knew she needed. “You can take over my section when you’re back from break. I’ll take it from here.”

Fulanah did not look up and Shirou was calling from the kitchen. But as Enkidu left the room, they thought they heard a small “thank you.”

\--

The customer was an asshole. There was absolutely no doubt that the customer was an asshole. Enkidu spent their time by her table letting her rage wash over them and imagining all the things that Kingu could do to her with that bat full of nails he thought they did not know about.

She had long black hair that fell to her waist. Enkidu made note of it as she left, trailed by someone who could only be her sister. They picked up the check book and flipped it open to glare at the receipt, fulling expecting a line of zeros where their tip should be. Instead, there was a modest sum and a small note of apology. Definitely the sister.

By the time their shift ended, Fulanah and Shirou were long gone, leaving only Enkidu, Touta, and their manager to make sure that everything was clean and ready for the next day. Enkidu yawned into their shoulder and checked the time on their phone. A little past 9:30pm. They could head straight home, but they still had reading to do for their classes, and there was a good chance that their brother would be making a racket.

Most places were not open this late on a Thursday.

Fortunately, it was the second Thursday of the month. Enkidu swung their bag over their shoulder and found their way into the city streets.

The museum rose bright above the city streets, and Enkidu took a moment to bask in its light. Normally it closed at five in the afternoon, but every second Thursday its owner kept it open until 10:30 for some sort of exhibition or another. Enkidu wasn’t one for parties, but they were not above taking advantage of its open doors for a quiet place to study. They passed by people dressed in clothing they could not afford in a year, flashing their museum pass at the employee. The crowd dwindled the further they walked from the gold-stained entrance. By the time they reached the taxidermy hall, the only sound was the fall of their feet on the sparkling floor.

Their book was heavy over their shoulder. They grimaced and dropped the bag on the nearest bench and dropped down next to it. It was dimly lit. Behind their eyelids it was completely dark. They soaked in the silence until their consciousness started to slip through their fingers.

Comparative Animal Physiology held their attention for little more than half an hour before the bulk of their exhaustion caught up to them.  Their dying phone informed them that there was still fifteen minutes until they had to vacate the building. They leaned back against the bench and looked at the faint light from the display case across from them.

 _Panthera leo._ The lion. One of Enkidu’s favorite displays. They kicked their heels idly against the granite flooring. There were two of them; one male and one female. Whichever taxidermist had worked on them was an artist. Enkidu swore they could see the muscled bunched under their fur, and a gleam in their eyes.

Enkidu wondered if those two lions had ever met in life, or if their destinies only intertwined after their mutual deaths. It was a little sad when they thought about it that way.

Muffled voices filtered back into their attention from the dying party down the hall. There were probably thirty to fifty people lingering there, cradling empty glasses in their silk gloves.

They thought about Kingu, gathering more bruises to carry home. They thought about Fulanah, and the grief in her eyes as she sent her siblings’ third call to voicemail. They thought about their mothers, huddled close on the couch with the family dog.

But most of all, they thought of lions.

“You can have a seat, you know. I can’t imagine whatever shoes you picked for that party are comfortable.”  

There was shuffling behind them. Enkidu smiled.

“I thought that I had gone undetected. You seemed absorbed in your work.”

“I didn’t hear a thing. But you usually show up eventually, so I figured I might as well say ‘hi’ this time.” They twisted around the body to get a good look at their observer. Seeing at him head-on for the first time, they could tell he was handsome. He was younger than months of side-long glances had suggested. Probably only a few years older than them, but not many. “Though I wasn’t sure you’d abandon an extravagant party just to look at some stuffed lions.”

The man barked out a laugh. “You are more of a fool than I thought if you think that I am here to watch the lions.” Despite his harsh words, he dropped down on the bench beside them.

Enkidu pulled their bag closer to their side to give him more room. His eyes glowed in a way that reminded them of the snakes their adviser kept in her apartment. “That’s a shame, because their craftsmanship is really impressive.” They leaned back. “But it’s got to be the lions. I mean, a guy as put-together as you has much more important things to do than follow some random stranger around a museum for four months. That would be _really_ foolish.”

Another laugh. There was no denial or shame in it. “You are far more interesting than a flock of fools scrabbling for scraps. They do not care for the countless treasures stored here. But you see their value. It is only natural that I would acknowledge your worth.”

“Is that what they call it these days?” Enkidu asked. They looked back at the lions, dropped their shoulders, and held out their hand. “I figure we’re overdue for an introduction. My name’s Enkidu.”

His grip was just shy of painful. “Gilgamesh.”

Kingu would kill them for this, but Enkidu could not bring themself to care.  


	2. Facade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's definitely not a date, but Enkidu's excited and Kingu's less than pleased, so it might as well be one.

The couch in the living room was old, comfortable, and a relic of their parents’ place. Kingu spent most of his time at home sitting there, reading through backlogs of texts from numbers he rarely recognized.

When Enkidu was not on campus or at work, they were usually at the kitchen table until the wee hours of the night.

It was 11 pm, and Enkidu still was not home. The most recent text under their name was from three days before when they’d asked him to pick them up from campus. He locked his phone and bounced it off the furthest armrest. Enkidu’s shift ended at 9:30pm. They should have been back nearly an hour ago. It was not the first time they’d come back late, but it was rare enough that it sent something itching under Kingu’s skin. He grabbed his phone and punched up a text.

Seconds later, the door creaked open.

“I’m back!”

Enkidu’s enthusiasm was jarring against Kingu’s miserable mood. He wrinkled his nose and shoved his phone as close to his face as he could. The couch cushions behind him buckled under additional weight. “You’re late.”

“Sorry!” Enkidu replied, but Kingu heard nothing but celebration. He grit his teeth. “I went to study at the museum. You know how it’s open late? And then, get this! Some rich guy sat down next to me. He was a really weird person! He’s got that ‘I’m better than you’ attitude, but he seemed to think I was interesting for some reason. He told me to meet him there at the same time next week!”

“The museum’s not even open then,” Kingu grunted. “You’ve got horrible taste.”

Enkidu danced around the couch to stand in front of him. Kingu kept his eyes fixed on his phone, trying to ignore the critical stare they’d leveled on his face. Looking for new injuries no doubt. Irritation prickled under his skin.

“I figure we’re just going to meet outside the doors and go somewhere. And it’s not like that! He just seems fun to talk to. But even if it was, I have _great_ taste.”

“Shamhat was an exception.” Kingu dropped his phone and crossed his arms between them. “Stop staring at me.”

Enkidu’s hands shot up, echoing Kingu’s barrier. “I wouldn’t have to stare if you’d actually pay attention.”

“I’m paying attention enough to know you’re a dumbass.”

“You always say I’m a dumbass,” Enkidu observed.

“Because you are.”

“And what does that make you?”

Kingu snarled and kicked out.

“Anyway, I have class tomorrow so I’m going to sleep!” Enkidu disappeared into their bedroom in a flurry of green hair, leaving Kingu behind.

The tension bled out of his back one muscle at a time, until he was sunk deep into the well-worn cushions.

It was not as if Enkidu had never shown interest in someone else before. During undergrad they’d dated a girl whose resemblance to them was, frankly, disgusting. Shortly after graduation there was another girl, Jeanne, that they’d pined after for a month or two. Then there was a regular at their work. Oscar… Ozwald… Ozy? Whatever his name, they’d stopped talking about him rather abruptly after a Saturday night shift. Kingu did not ask why.

Enkidu’s interests vacillated between patient women and self-absorbed men.

Kingu hated it.

He’d never met anyone that made him feel like Enkidu felt. Never noticed warmth for anyone outside of their family. Enkidu teased him for being a “mama’s boy” and he could not exactly deny it. The contacts list in his phone extended far past Enkidu’s, but his longest text threads were always with their parents. He’d received a new message just after Enkidu’d left for work. It contained three words.

_Is Enkidu alright?_

It was not dissimilar to many others he’d received in the past. He’d answered to the best of his ability, incorporating not only Enkidu’s reports, but their behavior after the appointment and the unsolicited and unanswered phone call he’d made to Dr. Roman after the fact.

Their parents thanked him for his diligent work. They did not ask him how he was.

It was fine because it had to be.

Kingu thought back to the way Enkidu’d smiled when they spoke about the man at the museum, and how the sun would set by the time they met him next week. He opened a new message, addressed it to another nameless contact, and started typing.

\--

It had been longer than Enkidu cared to remember since Kingu last accompanied them on an outing. They were not about to discourage him. They leaned restless against the plexiglass doors of the museum while Kingu scrutinized every passer-by.

The city was beautiful at night. Out in the dark, the imitation marble steps glowed like a fairytale and the shadows hid the worst of the discarded gum and city stains. Neon lights painted their surroundings in splashes of white and green like the moon in water.

Enkidu closed their eyes and tried to bask in the glow. There was a strong wind from the west, carrying the scent of the lake. Though they were waiting, they hardly thought of Gilgamesh. They did not think much of him yet. But in those quiet moments in the museum, they knew that they _would._

Because he’d been fun.

Fun in a way that they hadn’t felt since middle school when Kingu wore his hair down and their mothers took them to forest preserves on the weekend.

Talking to him felt like an adventure.

“He’s late,” Kingu snarled. “And it’s fucking cold.”

“It’s not that bad,” Enkidu insisted despite the irritation infecting them. “And he seemed like a big deal. He probably got held back at work.”

“If he’s that big a deal, he could’ve given his work to someone else. Five more minutes and we’re going home.”

“You don’t get to decide that. I’m older.” Enkidu retorted. What force there was behind their words was not directed towards Kingu. Five more minutes and they would be the first one to leave.

A sharp click. The sensation of empty air at their back. Enkidu turned to the sound of Kingu’s curse. One of the massive doors that guarded the museum entrance was open. Gilgamesh stood framed in the open darkness. He was smiling.

Enkidu’s foot made sharp contact with the concrete. “You’re late. It’s cold.”

“You should be honored that I have invited you in the first place.” He swept his arm in, gesturing for them to walk into the museum.

The prickling heat of Kingu’s irritation burned at Enkidu’s back. His shoulder made harsh contact with theirs.

“You’re not even going to apologize? Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Kingu,” Enkidu groaned.

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow and looked from Kingu to Enkidu and back again, question clear on his lips.

“You’re both assholes,” Enkidu observed. They closed their eyes and retreated into the little timeless space where they’d catalogued the situation. There were three paths here. They could demand that Kingu go against his very nature and stop being a dick for the rest of the evening. They could call it off and ask Gilgamesh to reschedule. Or…

Another harsh blow  to their shoulder drew them out of their introspection. Kingu’s voice was rough with restrained aggression. “I’m going home.”

Enkidu’s heart sunk, leaving room for their head to clear. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure.” He was already halfway down the stairs, ponytail snapping in the wind. He turned just long enough to yell. “You have shit taste in men.”

Enkidu pressed their palms to their forehead to stave off an oncoming headache. One complication traded for another.

“Your brother?”

“My brother.” They cupped their hands around their upper arms to stave off the chill and ducked through the doors. They swung closed after them.

The main entrance to the museum seemed all the more cavernous in the absence of light. Enkidu could not see the ceiling, and they could only see the silhouettes of the central exhibits. Black holes to their left and right led off into the wings. Gilgamesh’s hair glowed golden under the orange back-up lights.

“So I am your type.” His smug tone had gone even slimier. Somehow it was not completely repulsive.

Enkidu gave a non-committal shrug and pressed further into the darkness. “So why are you in here after hours? Do you work here?”

Patent leather footsteps followed them into the dark. They heard him scoff. “Work here? No. This is my storehouse.” He stopped beside them, and they felt the shift in the air as he crossed his arms in pride.

Illuminated by the sundry lights before them was an enormous replica of a mammoth. It was the first exhibit that any visitor could see upon entering. When Enkidu’d moved to the city for their undergraduate education, it was moth-eaten, and the lower legs were all but bare of fur from curious hands. Some time in the past few years it was taken off display for several months and returned restored down to the last follicle.

Enkidu catalogued all the new exhibits and restorations they’d noticed. “So you’re the director? Or owner or something? Aren’t you kind of young?”

“My father was the founder.”

Enkidu hummed and canted their head to get another look at him. Rather than watching the mammoth, he was looking directly at them. Just as he had in the taxidermy hall for months at a time. They considered his fascination again. It was no secret to them that they received more stares than the average person. The ambiguity of their face and dress were less remarkable than in the past, but still drew comment. But even if Gilgamesh was bored of his own treasures, there were countless more unusual patrons to look at. Surely their appearance became mundane ages ago.

But he still regarded them like a puzzle. It plucked a smile from their chest.  “So why’d you invite me here?” Probing.

“There is something that I wanted to show you.” He turned off into one of the cavernous wings. Enkidu followed quick behind. Back-up lights switched on accompanying their advance. They could hardly see the exhibits on either side, but countless visits told Enkidu that they were heading for the taxidermy hall.

Just before they reached its entrance, Gilgamesh veered left. They followed behind into a corridor they’d never been down before. A sign proclaiming “Staff Only” dangled from a chain on the wall.

They stopped in front of a polished elevator, half the size of the museum’s public ones. Gilgamesh tapped a card against a reader and the doors slid open. He gestured for them to go inside.

“You know, if you’re going to try to murder me or something, and I’m not sure you’re not, I’m going to kick your ass.” Enkidu stepped light-footed into the elevator. The walls were mirrors floor to ceiling, obstructed only by golden handrails. The whole thing was painfully ostentatious. Not unexpected.

Gilgamesh followed them in. They could feel the warmth radiating off him in the enclosed space, though their bodies did not touch. “That personality of yours does not match your appearance in the least.”

Enkidu’s eyes scrunched up in a smile. “Disappointed?”

“Hardly.”

It was not the response they’d expected. They took the moment to stare, trying to parse his tone.  

The doors slid open mere moments after they’d closed. Enkidu looked out, surprised to find a different view than before. The ride was so smooth they’d hardly thought it had begun, and they had no idea whether they’d gone up or down.

This section of the museum was bright like floodlights, and they had to blink the overexposure from their eyes before taking it all in. The floors, walls, and ceilings were the purest white. It reminded them of depictions of Heaven they’d seen on screen.

Against the backdrop, Gilgamesh looked more like a serpent than ever. A divine serpent, but of a different pantheon. Fitting, but not native.

Enkidu followed him out. “Where’s this anyway?”

“My private vault.” Gilgamesh turned to face them. He was flanked by white pedestals, capped in glass. Enkidu could not rip their eyes away from his to see what they contained.

“Perfect place for a murder,” they said.

“You seem quite insistent that I am going to kill you.”

“Oh, you’d _try,_ ” they smiled.

They did not miss how he echoed their expression. It should have been more frightening than thrilling, but self-preservation had never once been their priority.  

Gilgamesh led them down the hallway, their path suspended between two rows of pedestals, each with something old and rusted placed atop it. Now that he was ahead of them, Enkidu managed to will their eyes away to get a better look at the items on display. Every single one of them was painfully old, caked in layers of rust that looked to be holding them together. There were no plaques with any hint at their identity.

“What’s the point of keeping all this stuff hidden anyway?”

Gilgamesh made a noise somewhere between annoyance and pleasant surprise. “Some are too delicate or precious for proper display. The rabble could not properly appreciate the others.”

The hallway terminated in a white room with three open doors leading off into identical hallways, each with its own set of pedestals. Gilgamesh turned, eyes glittering, and spread his arms wide. “Weapons. Artifacts. Taxidermy. Which would you like to see?”

In the same way they’d known he would mean something to them when they first spoke, Enkidu knew that this was a test. There were no right or wrong answers, but what they picked would define their relationship going forward.

They thought of lions.

“All of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a little slower than normal. Fact is, I'm hitting some awful writer's block. It's probably because the Most Important Paper I Write In My Academic Career is due in two weeks and I'm freaking out a little. With luck, I'll pass this exam, and I'll never have to write a paper this stressful ever again. 
> 
> Anyway! I forgot to mention this last chapter, but this AU is loosely based around some RPs I did with my friends Pri (Kingu) and Mia (Gilgamesh). They came up with those characters' AU backstories and occupations.
> 
> After this chapter, things are going to start diverging pretty wildly from our RPs, so I'll be even more lost. 
> 
> But I know us Gilkidu fans don't have a whole lot of fics, and I'll do my best to do my part to contribute!


	3. Pseudonym

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilgamesh invites Enkidu to something a little fancier. People in their lives continue to disapprove.

Gilgamesh would not describe himself as lonely. His museum was open most days of the year, which meant that a few steps out of his office left him surrounded by people. He struck up conversations from time to time. Sometimes it was with guests, though he grew bored of them within moments. Other times it was with employees or researchers. They entertained him a little longer.

The conversations rarely led anywhere, and he could count the number of names he’d bothered to remember on a single hand.

Of all the exhibits he presided over, the taxidermy hall was the least interesting. It was a collection of stuffed corpses. If visitors wished to see animals, they were better served at a zoo. Patrons seemed to agree. The Hall of Gems was fit to burst, and the fossils were clear favorites. There was hardly ever a crowd in the taxidermy hall.

Still, he made it a priority to visit every exhibit at least once a week.

That was where he saw them. At first, he assumed they were an art student. People like that visited on occasion to sketch the specimens. But a second glance showed that they had no pen nor paper. They simply sat on one of the benches and stared into a plexiglass cage of still life birds.

It was odd but not unusual. When he returned that way fifteen minutes later, they’d moved on to another case, staring with the same intensity as the first.

Another month passed before his second sighting. They were on one of the benches reading something that was far too large to be anything but a textbook. Despite the work in their hands, he caught them sneaking glances at the displays. By the time he returned from the far end of the wing, they were wandering from case to case, book abandoned on the bench.

Despite not seeking out their presence, he soon learned that they came to the museum three evenings out of the week. Every visit began with an attempt at work. Sometimes they read, and other times they would rifle through a stack of papers, leaving notes behind on each. But hardly half an hour in, they would become distracted by whichever display they’d sat in front of and abandon their responsibilities in favor of drinking in every detail.

No matter how long they stared, they never seemed to grow bored.

Not that he was watching.

Gilgamesh had more important things to do than watch an odd visitor marvel over his treasures. For example, the museum had recently received a generous donation from an old family. The money had to be processed, accounted for, and budgeted to some exhibit or other. He’d been sitting on the decision for several weeks. It would be an insult not to spend it, but in his fervor to improve the museum after his father’s death, he’d already covered most of the obvious improvements.

But there was one place where the money could go to good use.

Plywood barriers cleaved the taxidermy visit in two for a full month. Gilgamesh made sure that he was there the day they came down. There was not a line like there had been when he’d renovated the Ancient Egypt exhibit, but there were several people milling about. One of them had long hair, green like springtime, and a smile that shone bright as any treasure.

Gilgamesh rationalized the change in his schedule as concern about the renovations. While he’d only spent twenty minutes a week in the taxidermy hall before they started, he found himself visiting twice as much.

His eager visitor frequented the evenings. More often than not, they would appear within an hour of closing, mime reading for thirty minutes, and then lose themself in a display. Speaking to them was never an option. The light in their eyes was the sun of another world.

Now, in the merciless white of his private collection, he was reflected in that light.

Enkidu’s hands hovered over a glass case containing a blade on a horizontal grip, eyes bright. “What’s this?”

“A katar. It is a weapon from India. That one is one of the earliest ever found. It dates back to the Vijayanagara Empire in the 14th century. It was a gift from a friend of my father’s.”

“Your dad had friends in a whole lot of places, didn’t he?” Enkidu’s fingertips traced the dagger’s outline in the air above it. Their smile was as gentle as any he’d seen them give the animals downstairs.

“His work took him many places.”

“So you travel a lot too?” Enkidu’s stare swallowed him.

Gilgamesh was not unaccustomed to the eyes of strangers. He was proud of his looks. But with Enkidu it was different, and he could not say why. It was not a bad feeling. “Of course. My storehouse is always expanding. It is my responsibility to ensure that my newest acquisitions are of the highest quality.”

Their soft hum of awe gave him more satisfaction than he would have anticipated. They side-stepped to the next display. “I’ve never left the state.”

“Why not?” The question surprised Gilgamesh as much as it did Enkidu.

They looked at him like they knew. Knew that he had not asked anyone about themselves in a very long time. They turned from the display case and cocked their head. Then their face split into a smile that warmed him from the inside out.

“Not everyone’s family can afford a private jet.”

“I am told that there is such a thing as coach.” His sharp smile softened into something more personable.

Enkidu tossed their head back and laughed.

Laughter followed them through the hall, interspersed with harmless jabs. They’d made it through perhaps a third of the weapons collection when Enkidu’s phone let out an ungodly shriek. They fished it out of their pocket and pressed its spiderweb screen to their ear.

Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow.

They rolled their eyes and mouthed something that could have been anything between ‘brother’ and ‘smother.’ Their hushed discussion hardly lasted more than two minutes.

Gilgamesh watched with crossed arms as they tucked the phone back away. “What was that insufferable noise?”

“Kingu’s ringtone.” They patted at their pockets. “The guy with me outside- my brother. That’s the sound he made the last time I tried to hug him.”

The third sharp snort of that night left Gilgamesh’s lips. He could not remember the last time he’d found someone so amusing. Which was why it was a shame. “I assume he is demanding that you leave.”

“I _do_ have class early tomorrow,” they grumbled. As they spoke their gaze lingered on him a little longer than usual.

He smirked in satisfaction. They did not want to leave. If he pushed a little harder, he could probably convince them to stay. Perhaps he could even do as he’d done many times in the past and try to talk them into his bed. He was not sure if they would be amenable, but that uncertainty only made it more appealing.

Instead, he stepped aside to free their path.

Enkidu did not move immediately. They patted their pockets again and drew their misshapen phone back out. “You should give me your number.”

It was so clear and confident that Gilgamesh could hardly understand it. This was another first. No one ever asked for his contact information. He would give it away if he thought that the recipient was worthy, and rarely even then. He took the phone from their hand with all the care that he would handle an artifact. The cracks in the screen broke up his vision, making it difficult to tell what he was looking at.

There were only four entries in their contacts, three of which shared the same surname. Almost as sparse as his own.

“Congratulations,” Enkidu said, “You’re special.” Their right hand hooked around their left arm in a half-hug.

Gilgamesh could not help but smile. “I see I do not need to tell you what an honor it is to have my personal number. Ensure that you do not abuse it.”

Enkidu pressed their fingertips to their chest in mock affront. “I would never!” They retrieved their phone from his hands and immediately began tapping away at the screen. “I’ll see you later, Gil!” And they were off and running for the elevator before he could object to the nickname.

Somehow it did not feel like a great loss.

\--

As Gilgamesh drew himself out of his bathtub that night, he heard the telltale chime of his phone on the marble countertop. He dragged a towel over his hair and wiped his fingertips dry on the hem. The screen displayed a single notification: A text message from an unknown number.

It was a picture of a little white dog with a cowboy hat strapped to his head and a stuffed bear in his mouth. The accompanying message was short. “This is Narita.”

He smiled and saved the number.  

\--

“What sort of work do you do?”

Enkidu spared the barest glance from the pile of papers they were grading, and then refocused. “I’ve got my stipend, but it’s not really enough to make rent. I also work part time at a restaurant nearby, and I’ve taken out a few loans.” Tongue trapped between teeth, they made a note and flipped to the next page of their current paper.

Rather than watching from afar, Gilgamesh had taken the open bench next to them the moment he’d entered the exhibit. Though Enkidu was busy, they could not bring themself to mind.

Still, the way he looked affronted at their insufficient income was starting to rub them the wrong way. They tucked their papers aside and twisted their body to get a better look at him. “What? I’m just a normal person. What did you think I was going to say?”

“I had no particular expectations,” Gilgamesh declared. “But this is unacceptable.”

“… Oh.” Something dropped cold in Enkidu’s chest, extinguishing their irritation.

“So you aren’t above sulking.” Gilgamesh’s grin was innocent malice. He leaned in close, sparking warmth where there’d been none. “I meant that it will be a problem if you do not own attire suitable for my next celebration. Well then- I suppose that I have no choice in the matter.”

That warmth burst into a blaze of anger. Enkidu was halfway to bared teeth when confusion dampened their rage. They sought out any evidence of falsehood in his eyes and found none. “…You could at least invite me before you start being a dick about it.”

“Very well. I confer upon you the honor of attending the next banquet I hold within these halls.”

“They wouldn’t be difficult to sneak into,” Enkidu noted.

“They would in those clothes.” Gilgamesh brushed to his feet and looked down upon them with sharp red eyes. “Which is why you are coming with me.”

“Are you taking me shopping?” Enkidu latched their bag shut and slung it over their shoulder. They did not have work that evening, and all their on-campus obligations had been that morning. It was only 4pm. They had a little time.

Gilgamesh threw back a smirk in lieu of an answer.

It was enough to confirm their suspicions. Enkidu dragged their feet after him, turning the situation over and over in their head. They had arranged one meeting since they’d finally called him out on his spectating. Other than that, they sat together in the Taxidermy Hall several times a week. They would do their reading and grading while Gilgamesh talked independent of their engagement.

Enkidu, in turn, had taken to sending him texts when they saw something particularly amusing. Sometimes it was a cute dog that they’d seen on the way to campus. Other times it was a funny picture they’d seen online. Nothing of substance. His replies were sparse to start but increasing in frequency. They were usually a single word with no depth.

Like their connection.

Enkidu liked Gilgamesh. They would not deny it if asked outright. It was the sort of information that they might even volunteer. But if pressed for further detail, they did not think they could supply it. His personality was objectively awful. He looked down upon the world and the people in it as if they were beneath him.

He’d never looked at them like that, had he?

They followed after his back like a moth to flame and wondered.

That was probably it.

They adored their brother, but he’d grown cold. They were diagnosed early, but he hadn’t treated them like they were fragile. They’d been close then. But one day a pack of high schoolers goaded Enkidu into a fight and broke their nose. It was an insignificant injury in the grand scheme of their health, but Kingu had reacted violently.

Things had changed.

Gilgamesh’s words were rough but his actions generous. He looked at them like they were equal to any artifact in his museum.  

How could they _not_ latch on?

It was a disquieting thought, but they could not help the way it fueled their feet to reach his side.

\--

“So you picked a _dress._ ” Kingu looked Enkidu up and down with a grimace. “Do you have any idea how fucking weird it is to see someone who looks just like me wearing that shit?”

Enkidu twisted at the waist to get a better look at their ass in the bathroom mirror. “You’re being really dramatic.” The dress was black with white and gold accents, and worth a full week of their salary. Gilgamesh had insisted they pick something even more expensive, but they’d refused. It _was_ a nice dress. Considerably nicer than anything else they owned. It was also conservative enough to double for conference wear.

Kingu leveled them with a glare that could freeze water. “You never wear dresses. You said you hated them because they’re hard to move in.”

“I wanted to look _nice,_ ” Enkidu shot back.

“You have suits.”

“But they don’t look,”

“Oh, I get it.” Kingu’s voice rose to sing-song levels. “I thought I was giving you shit, but you actually _like_ this guy! You want him to think you’re pretty! And the only person you’ve ever thought was pretty was Sh-”

Enkidu’s palms made violent contact with Kingu’s chest, shoving him back just enough to slam the bathroom door. Muffled mirth signaled his retreat to his room. They puffed their cheeks and looked back in the mirror. Pieces of cheap makeup dotted the sink, all unopened. They dropped each one back into a plastic bag and shoved it in the medicine cabinet.

Fine. They looked fine. An old pair of spats kept the unfamiliar feeling of open air around their legs manageable, and their hair was as combed as it was going to get.  The dress did not cling to their curves like some others had, but it wasn’t like they were trying to seduce anyone.

Without allowing themself another moment in front of the mirror, they snatched up their bag and rushed out the door. Outside the skies were dark and the street was bright with the absence of the usual crowds. The walk and subsequent bus ride were cloaked by the buzz of their own thoughts.

Kingu’s more critical words (“A ponytail? What the hell do you think you’re going to- a barbeque?”) and Gilgamesh’s excessive interest (“What sort of food do you prefer? I will prepare a feast that suited for your unrefined palette.”) rung through their head until they were sure they could not think.

Corrupted memories haunted them through the museum entrance until the noise of the crowd became overwhelming. Enkidu blinked away the dregs and looked up. Their feet pointed toward the Taxidermy Hall as they always did. They could still wander off that way. Cut away from the pressing crowd and its too-loud conversation.

But Gilgamesh was waiting.

Enkidu steeled themself and pushed back into the crowd.  

The further in they got, the looser the mob. But no matter the room they had to maneuver, they could not see any further than the people in their immediate vicinity.

“Waiter!”

The voice was loud and familiar in a way that fostered goosebumps. Enkidu closed their eyes and sent a silent prayer to the patron deity of servers that she wouldn’t be cruel to whichever poor sap had caught her attention.

“What? Fine. Waitress? Ugh, I cannot believe he would hire people from that slip-shod excuse for a restaurant.”

She was growing closer. With words came context. She seemed to be talking to them, which meant that she recognized them from work. Which further meant…

The sound of several indignant guests being shoved aside covered their groan of dismay. They could get lost in the crowd if they were assertive enough, but she seemed determined to go find them. So they turned and locked eyes with the woman that had terrorized poor Fulanah several weeks before. She was positively furious.

“I’m surprised that you recognized me,” Enkidu said by way of greeting. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d bother remembering a humble server.”

“You look like my employee,” the woman snapped, “Though she is twice the woman you are.”

“I should hope so,” Enkidu shot back with enough sincerity to break through her anger.

She leaned in close enough that they could smell whatever hideous perfume she’d sprayed on in hopes of attracting… someone. It burned their nose.

“Oh.” The burst of sound was punctuated with a smile that was the opposite of comforting. “You’re Aunties’. The older one, right?”

Enkidu fought not to recoil. They refused to show weakness.

“Ishtar. What a surprise. Did you need something from my friend?”

Enkidu’s shoulders sagged with relief at the sound of Gilgamesh’s voice. They pushed past her and knocked into his side.

The woman (Ishtar?) sputtered. “ _Friend?_ ”

Gilgamesh made steady eye contact.

Ishtar did not engage. She looked at the place where their shoulders met and smirked. “I see how it is. That’s cute. Of course, someone like you would only be able to make friends with something like _that._ I have to tell Ere- this is too funny. I’ll see you around, Gilgamesh!”

Isolated in the crowd, Enkidu pushed off Gilgamesh and tried to tamp down their irritation. “You know that bitch?”

“Her father and mine were… acquaintances. Their family has donated several large sums of money to the museum.” The distaste was clear in his tone. He grabbed their wrist and pulled, drawing them through the gathering to the refreshments. “Put her out of your mind. There is something you must see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer than expected, but it also ended up being a little longer than expected.   
> I still have no idea what the overarching plot is other than that I want them to kiss.   
> I don't remember if they kissed in my last fic and that, in and of itself, is a tragedy. A wrong that must be righted.


	4. Red Herring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is a marathon, and Enkidu won't stop sprinting.

The surprise was the food. Enkidu fought back drool as they looked over the spread. There was an excess of meat, salad, pastries, and some kind of bread that _looked_ like cornbread, but was not cornbread. They were familiar with high-quality food. They served it several nights a week. And _this_ was _good stuff_.

All but forgetting their host, Enkidu slipped free of his grasp and scooped up a plate. The crowd pressed closer, hips and shoulders jumbling into their side. Probably people eager to speak to Gilgamesh. They resolutely smacked a piece of the mysterious bread next to several pieces of meat and cheese, shoving sideways.

Gilgamesh’s voice hummed amusement behind them, but they couldn’t make out the words. They shoved a croissant in their mouth and grunted an inquiry through it. Sharper than intended. More laughter. Several words not made for them.

Their plate ran out of space before the buffet ended. They compensated by stacking it higher. It was getting difficult to move through the press of the bodies and past their stiffening shoulders. Everything was loud.

Two sets of fruit. They’d reached the end of the novel food items. The rest was just a mirror to help thin the crowd. Not that it afforded them much more room.

Enkidu twisted their torso, looking for an escape from the press.

No such luck.

When Gilgamesh cut through the crowd, people parted to get a better look at him. Here, Enkidu wasn’t worth much of anything. Indecipherable conversation pressed in close. There was something dangerous building up in their chest, swelling out to meet it. If things went on like this, it would be bad.

“Gil?”

A firm hand caught Enkidu’s shoulder and the crowd’s pressure lightened somewhat. “Come with me.” It was the clearest they’d heard him that night. Protecting their plate with jealous care, they followed his golden hair through the sea of people. Focusing in on the color helped a little, though they couldn’t say why.

Gilgamesh led them in a straight line through the mass of humanity. Their sense of direction, usually impeccable, was shot but they had a feeling they knew where he was going. As the crowd thinned, the familiar trappings of the Taxidermy Hall came into view. Gilgamesh led them down the little hallway and into the private elevator. The doors slid shut, blocking out the rest of the noise, and Enkidu sagged against the wall in relief. “So many _people._ ” They glared at him. “Who the hell invites that many people over? How can you even breathe in that? That’s gotta be against fire code.”

“The great lion, brought down by a measly herd of herbivores.” Gilgamesh observed.

“Lions,” Enkidu retorted, “Only need ten or fifteen others around. _That_ was a swarm!”

“Then this should suit your tastes better.” Gilgamesh gestured back to the white, white room, now interrupted by a table set for two.

Enkidu hung back by the elevator while Gilgamesh made himself comfortable at the table, dropping his plate on the plain (yet undoubtedly expensive) tablecloth. “… I thought you just invited me for the party.”

“I grew bored of it.”

Enkidu ruffled their hair into knots, picking apart his words and his actions. After weeks of discussion, they were getting a handle on the disconnect. They adjusted the balance of their stack of food and slid into the other chair. “So if you’re not going to say it, I will. As far as first dates go, this is pretty over-the-top.”

Gilgamesh’s grin was almost predatory.

Enkidu’s heart swooped. They hid it by shoveling several pieces of fruit into their mouth.

“I did say that you have captured my intention. And as you may have noticed, I tend to keep the things that interest me close.”

Enkidu’s eyes roamed the room, from the two displays framing their chair to the pair bracketing Gilgamesh. “So, I’m supposed to be one of your exhibits? Were you trying to parade me around?” Probing.

A scoff. “No. Ordinary exhibits are not allowed here.”

“You aren’t very good at talking to people, huh.” The realization slipped in, hiding just behind an impression Enkidu couldn’t shake. “This is your first date.”

Rather than anger or embarrassment, Gilgamesh admitted it freely. “No one else has been worthy of my attention. Are you going to gawk, or are you going to eat?” A bottle of wine materialized from below the table. Enkidu had enough experience serving it to know that it cost far more than anything they’d consumed in their entire life. It was as irritating as it was endearing.

They accepted a glass and spared sips between bites. The wine didn’t taste much different from the cheaper stuff their mothers broke out at family dinners. Not like the food. Gilgamesh _had_ asked what kinds of things they liked to eat during their last meeting. It felt like a bit of a waste to ask a talented chef to prepare things like cold cuts and cubed cheese.

Not that Enkidu was complaining.

Gilgamesh did not seem to be either. He picked at his food with the cautious curiosity of a man in a foreign land and expressed delight with every bite.

Enkidu’d already known that their lives up until now were very different.

“So you know I have a twin brother,” they started. Gilgamesh looked up from picking at his plate and cocked an eyebrow. “But what about you? Do you have any siblings?”

A tentative moment of silence passed by before Gilgamesh responded. “I have two sisters. One elder, and one younger.”

“Yeah?” Enkidu cocked their head. “You just give off that ‘only child’ energy. That ‘I always get everything I want’ kinda thing. What happened to them?”

“Gone. Both married and moved away to be with their spouses.”  

The words were flippant, but Enkidu couldn’t help the sympathy that snuck into their voice. “So you’re all alone?” Something they’d suspected, but never voiced.

“We were never close,” Gilgamesh said instead. “Our interests diverged a great deal after our childhood. They were only concerned with foolish pursuits.”

“And I bet you live by yourself in a giant penthouse or something too.” Enkidu’s sigh dragged them down nearly to their plate. They stared at the crumbs of their meal, trying to divine a path forward. Their phone buzzed in their pocket. They did not have to look to know that it was Kingu. A tentative plan began forming in their head. “Hey. Do you have some time next Sunday?”

Another pause interrupted the conversation. Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. “I do.”

“Okay.” Enkidu pulled out their phone and started tapping across the screen. “We’re having a family dinner at six. I’m inviting you. My moms make a great meatloaf, so I’ll ask for that.” Texts started bombarding their phone, mostly from their brother. He was, predictably, furious. They ignored it. “I get that it’s probably kinda early for you to be meeting the parents, but they’re pretty chill so don’t worry. Not that you would.”

Gilgamesh could have commented on the absurdity of it at any point, but instead he smiled as he watched them speak.

Enkidu took that as a good sign. “Do you think you can make it?”

“I suppose that it would be interesting.”

“You didn’t even think about it, did you?” Enkidu’s grin made their cheeks ache. They pushed back from the table and took to their feet. “Kingu’s pretty angry, so I’m going to head back. You should actually check your calendar to make sure you’re free.”

“I will cancel any appointments.”

“Now who’s the one jumping the gun?” Enkidu slung their bag over their shoulder and slipped around the table to stand beside his chair. Gilgamesh smirked up at them. “But for a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, that was a pretty decent date, so I’ve got to thank you for that. Next Sunday counts as my turn.” The usual hesitation gripped them. They lingered there a moment without speaking. Small movements. Too early. “See you then?”

“That is, if you can keep yourself away from the museum for the week.”

He said it like a challenge.

It was one that Enkidu was not sure they could beat. Their season pass was getting a workout. They stepped back out of his space and waved. “Right. I’ll text you the address. See ya!”

Somehow it was hard not to drag their feet.

\--

Kingu very nearly refused to give Enkidu a ride to their parents’ home. They argued between bites of breakfast three days out of the week until Monday morning when Enkidu threatened to hitchhike.

Fulanah seemed similarly skeptical. “Don’t you find it strange that he is so interested in you? It sounds as if he is treating you as a toy.” She leaned back to catch a glimpse of the empty dining room from their refuge in the kitchen. Still no one.

“It’s not like I haven’t thought of that,” Enkidu admitted. “But I figure that even if he is playing around, I’ve gotten some good food and fun conversations out of it. It wouldn’t be a total loss if he just got bored of me.”

“You do not believe what you are saying.”

‘Believe.’ That was a strong word for Fulanah. She thought about belief and faith and conviction far more than Enkidu ever had in their life. Of course she was right.

 That did not mean they had to like it.

“You know what? I shouldn’t have asked you. You can give me dating advice when you finally talk to that guy at your bus stop that you won’t shut up about.”

Fulanah did not respond, but the shame of snapping chased them out of the kitchen.

\--

Enkidu and Kingu’s family home was settled out in the suburbs. It was a kit house that Aruru and Tiamat had bought for much less than it was currently worth. They were still paying off the mortgage. Their parents never spoke about it, but Enkidu and Kingu had found evidence that they were well-off at some time in the past. Then something had happened. It was not the kind of thing they could ask about.

They pulled into the driveway at half past five. Enkidu slipped off the back of Kingu’s bike and shed their helmet.

One of their mothers was already framed in the doorway, eyeing them with mild amusement. “That bike is loud, and you are early,” Aruru observed.

“I keep telling him that. I’m pretty sure he’s using the noise of the engine to compensate for his tiny d-”

 “I’m kicking you off next time we’re on the highway.”

“ _Children._ ” Aruru stepped aside to let them in. “I see that neither of you have changed in the least.”

The front hall was spotless in the way it only was when they were expecting guests. Enkidu and Kingu kicked their shoes into a poorly differentiated pile beside the welcome matt. Aruru made another noise of disapproval. “You two… Kingu, would you mind going to see your mother? She’s waiting in the kitchen.”

He groaned and wandered off, leaving Enkidu and Aruru alone in the hallway.

Enkidu glanced back over their shoulder through the window. The driveway contained Kingu’s bike and their mothers’ car. There were no other vehicles in sight.

“I thought your guest wasn’t arriving until six?”

“Uh- yeah. That’s what I told him.”

Aruru made that helpless kind of smile she often did just before imparting advice. She motioned for them to move into the family room.

Enkidu dragged their feet.

Once they’d settled on the couch, she sat next to them. “It’s rare that you mention any friends, much less invite them to a family dinner. We agreed because you don’t ask for things very often, but Kingu has been texting all week asking us to tell you that he can’t come.” Comments on the quality of _Kingu’s_ usual company, and how that boded for Enkidu’s new friend, went unsaid but understood.

“You’re going to meet him in half an hour,” Enkidu observed. But Aruru was looking at them like she was about to scold them, and Enkidu could not hold out for long. “He works at the museum downtown. I visit a lot, so we met there. I guess we’re kind of dating.”

When Enkidu’d told Aruru about Shamhat, she’d immediately approved. Now, her face pinched into a frown. “The natural history museum?”

“Yeah?” Enkidu was not sure whether they’d ever mentioned which museum they frequented. There were art museums, culture museums, sports museums, and just about any other kind you could think of in the city. But the natural history museum was the only one with an exhibit dedicated to animals. It was not out of the question for her to make an accurate guess. Still, something about her frown rubbed them the wrong way.

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“A little over a week.” No sense in hiding that one. Kingu would love to catch them in a lie.

“Isn’t it a little soon to invite him over?” She expressed concern rather than amusement or irritation. It was unsettling.

Fortunately, Enkidu had anticipated this question and came prepared to answer it. “It sounds like he had a pretty distant family growing up. I thought it’d be nice for him to have dinner with all of us. I mean, if Kingu and I can stop arguing for the duration.”

“I would really love to see that.” Aruru got up and peered out the front window. Enkidu followed her gaze. Nothing new. There was still probably twenty minutes until Gilgamesh was due to arrive. “Enkidu, could you go help your mother and your brother in the kitchen? I’m sure that she could use the help, and it would be best for all of us if you get the urge to antagonize Kingu out of your system before our guest arrives.”

Enkidu made a show of reluctant agreement, though they were grateful. They needed something to take their mind off the waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Enkidu and Kingu:  
> Mom = Aruru  
> Mother = Tiamat 
> 
> Let's sneak in a tiny reference to buttercake but never follow it up.
> 
> Me, casually trying to sneak Nameless/Sigma into the background of every story I can. 
> 
> I you wanna scream about Gilkidus, my Discord is siriex#2413.


	5. Selective Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

The doorbell rang at quarter past six. Enkidu darted out of the kitchen to the sound of their mother’s snapped scolding. Dishes rattled in their wake.

Gilgamesh stood at the front door, looking just as comfortable on suburban sidewalk as he did surrounded by millions in artifacts.

“You’re late,” Enkidu laughed.

“It’s hot,” Gilgamesh countered.

They pressed to the side of the hall to allow him in. “My moms are in the kitchen, and Kingu’s waiting at the table. Take your shoes off, okay? Mother’ll stab your heart out if you track any dirt on the carpet. She’s got a thing about mud.”

Gilgamesh complied, kicking his undoubtedly expensive shoes into the pile by the door. There was something both domestic and hilarious about seeing him in his socks.

“Are you just going to stare, or are you going to show me the way?” His smug tone told Enkidu that he’d caught them looking. Not that they were ashamed.

Enkidu herded him into the dining room. It was cramped; not meant for more than four. Five chairs were sandwiched between the table and the wall, two pressed leg to leg on the far side. Kingu glared up at them from one of the two. He had not been sitting there when Enkidu left the room. They flipped him the bird behind Gilgamesh’s back. Kingu’s retort was not so subtle.

“… Okay. I’ll sit next to Kingu, so you can sit there,” Enkidu gestured to the empty chair that would be to their right. “I’m going to see if Mom and Mother need any help in the kitchen and Kingu IsweartoGodifyoutryanythingIwillkickyourass.”

They nearly bumped into Aruru on their way out. “Enkidu. I thought I told you to behave.” Their face flushed red at the scolding (in front of their _date_ no less!), but when they looked up, she was not looking at them. Her eyes were trained across the table. “Gilgamesh. It has been a long time.”

“Aruru. I have not seen you since my father’s funeral.”

Enkidu had never heard that tone of voice from their mother, and had only heard Gilgamesh’s during their encounter with his old acquaintance (Ishtar?). They abandoned their journey to the kitchen. “You know each other?”

“Your mother and I are friends with his parents,” Aruru supplied. She slipped past Enkidu and placed the meatloaf in the center of the table. “You could say that we were business partners.”

Enkidu, faltering, pressed back against the wall.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me here,” Gilgamesh observed. His posture suggested that he was relaxed, but his eyes were narrowed to points.

“Enkidu mentioned that you worked at the museum,” Aruru explained. “It seemed too perfect to be a coincidence. Besides, you two were bound to meet sooner or later.”  

“And why is that?”

“Our families have enough mutual acquaintances.” Tiamat pushed into the dining room, displacing both Enkidu and Aruru from the doorway. “You are in the way. Sit down.”

They both drifted into their seats without further argument. Enkidu knocked their foot against Gilgamesh’s ankle to catch his attention. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Later then.

Kingu leaned far forward, eyes fixed on Tiamat. “So, wait. Mom said you and his dad were business partners. What kind of business?”

“Ask your mom.”

Kingu growled in frustration, took a quick glance at Gilgamesh, and then turned his attention on Aruru. Enkidu caught themself leaning in with him. “What kind of business?”

Aruru cast a side-long glance at her partner and pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “I just wanted to have a nice, quiet dinner…”

“ _Mom_.”

“We helped his father find exhibits for the museum. But we stopped shortly after you two were born. Traveling is difficult when you have two babies to take care of.” She pulled over the pan of meatloaf and picked up a knife. “But it has been a very long time. I am sure that he only remembers us because of the funeral. But I do not think that this is time for talking about that sort of thing. Here, Kingu, give me your plate.”

As they passed their plates around, something occurred to Enkidu. “Do you know someone named ‘Ishtar’?”

Aruru glanced up, looking surprised. “You met her too?”

“She frequents the museum. Ningal and Nanna still contribute a large amount every year. Her personality is as awful as ever.” Gilgamesh supplied.

Enkidu nodded emphatically. “She showed up at work a few weeks ago, and then approached me at the museum. She called me a ‘thing.’”

The table shook with the force of Kingu’s fist. “That bitch _what?_ ”

Enkidu resigned themself to a second scolding in front of their date. But the scolding did not come. They looked around the table, only to find their mothers stiff with tension, and Gilgamesh’s eyes burning red. Kingu’s fury went without saying. “Yeah, she was kind of an asshole. It’s just she talked like she knew you.”

“So, not the kind of asshole you like,” Kingu interjected, staring Gilgamesh down.

 “Kingu.” Tiamat snapped. His eyes dropped back down to his meatloaf, which he promptly proceeded to dismember.

Silence passed between horrible, painful bites. Enkidu could hardly bring themself to chew, head too full of how fast good intentions became dumpster fires. Kingu’s foot made reluctant contact with their shin. An apology. They knocked back.

The conversation never quite recovered. Enkidu hardly finished half of their meal. They were shocked and relieved to find that Gilgamesh not only stayed but cleaned his plate. The moment Tiamat placed her fork down, Enkidu rocketed to their feet and grabbed every dish within convenient reach. “I’ll clean up, so everyone can go! Gil, could you help me out a minute?”

“Are you suggesting-“

Their heel made harsh contact with his toes, erasing his indignance in a manner of seconds. Kingu laughed in delight. “Pick up Mom and Mother’s plates. We fed you so you’ve gotta pull some weight. I’ll teach you how to wash them.”

Enkidu brushed out of the room, with Gilgamesh storming at their heels.

The kitchen door slammed behind them.

“Well,” Aruru said, “At least they have him under control.”

\--

“How _dare_ you-“

“Sorry.”

Gilgamesh’s rage shattered. “What?”

“I’m _sorry._ ” Enkidu sucked in a breath so loud he heard it. “I invited you over because I thought it would be a good change of pace, but everything went all to shit, and I mean it’s not like you really belong in a place like this anyway,”

“Enkidu.”

Irritation burst from the surface of a cocktail of emotions they could not hope to unpack. “ _What_?”

“Tonight’s events were inconsequential.”

“They were _not._ ” Enkidu started pacing, walking short circles around the kitchen. “Why are you even still _here?_ That was a disaster. You were supposed to have a nice family dinner! It was supposed to be great, and then of _course_ you know my moms, and Kingu was an asshole, and then I just _had_ to bring up that _bitch_.”

“You invited me because my sisters left, and my father died?” Gilgamesh asked, amused. His tone only further provoked them.

“Do you have a problem with that? Are you mad because I felt ‘sorry’ for you? Well I didn’t. I just wanted to make you happy!”

“I still have a mother.” Gilgamesh’s eyes were scrunched up with ill-contained laughter now. “You are the one who jumped to conclusions.”

Enkidu sunk to the ground, clutching at their head. “You are the _worst!_ ”

“So your brother tells me.”

They yowled.

Gilgamesh’s laughter finally broke free. He wiped tears from his eyes as he crouched down before them. “You are far too earnest for your own good.”

“Shut up.”

“But that is precisely why I find you so interesting.”

From anyone else and for anyone else, those words would mean nothing. But here… Enkidu’s hands slipped from their head, tangling in their hair on the way down. Gilgamesh looked harsh in the fluorescent lighting, but no more harsh than his voice was. That voice that never quite said what he meant. Meaning obstructed by decades of over-wrought pride and barriers.

Enkidu knew because they’d constructed similar walls. So had Kingu, and their parents, and Fulanah, and everyone else in their life.

Enkidu wanted to smash them.

They ripped their fingers through the space between them, and yanked Gilgamesh in to their lips.

Kissing Gilgamesh was nothing like kissing Shamhat. It was thin lips and sharp teeth, only occasionally interrupted by the soothing balm of a tongue. Enkidu could feel his jaw sharp under their fingertips and reveled in the way his gouged into their arms. It was rough, avid, and the most honest they’d ever been. When they parted Gilgamesh reeled them back in with a smile that told them he’d been waiting for this.

The kitchen door clicked open, and Enkidu heard Kingu say “Oh my _God_ ” before it slammed shut again.

They collapsed against Gilgamesh’s shoulder and laughed until they had to wipe their tears on his disgusting designer shirt. “You have. The worst taste.”

“They say that birds of a feather flock together,” Gilgamesh supplied.

“Is it too early to tell you that I really like you?”

“It was too early to meet your parents, but that hardly stopped me.”

“Okay.” Enkidu steadied themself and used Gilgamesh as leverage to get back to their feet. They were still shaking, but it was less severe than before. “Okay. Damn. I guess this counts as working out. Are we together now?”

“I will not permit you to see anyone else.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” Enkidu put their hands on their hips and glanced over at the sink. “Okay then, Gil. Get your ass over here. We’re doing the dishes.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Dead serious.”

Gilgamesh rolled up his sleeves with a huff. “Fine. Show me.”

And Enkidu smiled and did.

\--

Kingu kicked his shoes off in the front hall of their apartment, spitting venom. “I can’t believe you got him to actually wash some dishes.”

“What can I say?” Enkidu grinned. “I’m a charmer.”

“You’re a disaster.” Kingu snapped back, though it lacked the usual conviction. “You’re speed running a relationship with the city’s number one bachelor. It took you and Shamhat literal years to get together, and now you’re making out with Gilgamesh on the second date.” His voice went quiet. “I’m not even gonna ask you if you’re hiding something from us. But if I find you lying dead in your bedroom without _some_ kind of warning, I’m desecrating your grave.”

Enkidu hung up their jacket and made a move to their bedroom. “Our Moms would ground you until _you_ die.”

“Yes,” Kingu hissed, “And they would be _very upset._ And it would be your fault.”

“No one asked you to commit a crime.”

Kingu, tone shifting to something more distressed. “Why are you like this?”

It was not a new question. They hadn’t had an answer in many years, but a recent increase in introspection had provided one. They turned to Kingu and yanked a smile. “Remember that fight I got into in high school?”

“Yeah? You got the shit beat outta you.”

Enkidu kept their eyes fixed on the spot where Kingu’s hair pulled back from his temples into that same tight ponytail he’d worn every day since. “Yeah. Up until then we were pretty close, right? We’d stay up late and watch TV, grab food together. Mom used to say we spent way too much time together, so she tried to get us other friends. Make us ‘branch out.’”

Kingu’s mouth tightened. He nodded.

“But after that fight you just kinda…” They gestured to the fifteen feet that separated them. “Started acting like I was glass and I’d break if you touched me. Even though you know I can beat the shit out of you if I wanted to. But at least you’re still around. Our Moms are still around, and they still treat me the same as always. But what happens if I tell you how much time I’ve got left?”

“Dumbass.” A common word, with uncommon tone. Kingu’s voice strained with it. “What about us, huh? Do you have any fucking idea how worried our Moms are? They call me all the fucking time just to ask how you are. And then there’s me, not knowing if I’m gonna wake up one day to find one of the only people I give a shit about in the whole goddamn world rotting in their bed. Do you know what that’s like?”

“Is it anything like wondering if I’m going come home to find my brother covered in blood, and not knowing whose it is?”

Kingu bristled. His hands were curled into fists, going white at knuckles covered in scabs. For a moment his chest swelled with something. Then it passed, and he shoved by them into his room.

Enkidu leaned against the wall and tried to catch their breath. It was difficult. Like trying to breath in high humidity. When their heart returned to its typical stutter, they slipped into their room and shoved a change of clothes into their backpack.

By the time that Kingu peeked out of his room they were long gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. The characters got away from me. If it's any consolation I didn't want this either. (But I wanted the kiss, and I got it, so that's okay at least.)


	6. Involuntary Confidant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingu's late night activities come to light.

Following the pattern of recent summer nights, the temperature fell with the sun, leaving Enkidu shivering at the base of Gilgamesh’s building. He had not asked any questions when they’d requested his address. They suspected that he did not need to.

The elevator up to the penthouse suite (two entire floors?) gave them ample time to consider what they were doing, and what they expected out of it.

Going to Gilgamesh was not a choice. They needed to escape Kingu, and they could not run to their parents. In high school when those times came (and they came often) they would run to Shamhat. But Shamhat was not here. Gilgamesh was the closest they could get.

But as the doors of the elevator slid open, Kingu echoed in their head.

_Speedrunning._

_Shit taste._

Not exactly the type of boyfriend who would provide them with a carton of ice cream and comb their hair until they fell asleep.

_Boyfriend._

_Speedrunning._

They shook the thoughts from their mind and stuck their head into the front hall. They’d learned to expect the excessive opulence by now. The gold-plated picture frames around famous paintings hardly surprised them. They had other things in mind regardless.

“Gil?”

“Come in.”

Enkidu kicked off their shoes and slunk forward, clutching their bag against their shoulder. The front hall broke into a wide, open room with more windows than walls. Gilgamesh was seated on the couch with a glass of wine in hand and without his shirt. They might have appreciated that under other circumstances (how was a museum director so ripped?), but they were hardly in the mood.

They dropped their bag in the front hall and fell onto the couch next to him. Silence settled over them both. Enkidu twisted their fingers into their pants and stared down at their knees, trying to figure out what the hell they were doing and why. The television was not on, and there was no music to fill the void.

Twenty minutes passed while they ran the same thoughts through their head over and over and over. The same things, same words, always in their brother’s voice.

Gilgamesh shifted forward to grab the bottle on the table across from them and pour himself another glass. The movement drew their attention and they noticed for the first time that there was a second glass sitting empty on table. They picked it up and poured themself a little. Rather than drink, they swirled it around and watched how it clung to the sides. “…Thanks.”

“I do not require your thanks.”

“But you’re getting it anyway.” Enkidu stared out the window at the sea of stars, both natural and artificial, coating the view. “… Do you have any beer?”

Gilgamesh scoffed. It was enough of an answer.

“… Mind if I turn on the television?”

“Do what you want.”

Enkidu groaned. As suspected, he was nothing like Shamhat. And maybe there was something refreshing about not being expected to talk about the issue at hand, but they would have appreciated something a little more than half-assed offer of alcohol. They eyed the remote as if it had offended them. But if there was one thing they’d learned from their brother it was that sulking solved nothing. “Kingu and I got into a fight.”

“Is that so.”

“Yeah. He’s a lot.”  They brushed their hair back from their face and took a careful whiff of the wine. Despite their distress, it did not seem particularly appealing. “… Did you argue a lot with your sisters?”

Gilgamesh sipped at his drink. “We were never close enough to argue.”

“That’s a thing?”

Gilgamesh dismissed the question with a shrug.

Enkidu leaned back and closed their eyes. If that was intended as a comfort, it was more depressing than anything. Another few moments of deliberation, and they slid along the cushions and leaned against his shoulder. He did not move away.

It was not the same kind of comfort that they got from Shamhat, but it was… Nice. They took a second stab at the remote and started flicking through channels. The soft shift between hundreds of audio clips was almost equivalent to white noise, and they could feel Gilgamesh drifting heavier against them.

Their extensive channel roulette ended on the travel channel.

The white expanse of a mountain bursting from the other side of the world filled the screen, the host a mere dot against the backdrop. Enkidu dropped the remote on Gilgamesh’s lap. He made no move to change it.

Winter wind blew across the screen, and frost clung to the host’s beard. Enkidu closed their eyes and tried to imagine the chill. “… Hey Gil.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been there?”

Gilgamesh’s red eyes flicked down to them and back to the screen. “I have. I have made a point to conquer every peak.”

“Huh.”

“Do you want to go?”

Enkidu shivered under the half-remembered chill of winter. Gilgamesh’s arm tightened around their shoulders. When had it fallen there? They could not remember. “Yeah. Yeah I do.” They felt the shift in his shoulder against theirs. “But I can’t.”

“You,”

“I can’t.”

Gilgamesh lifted the remote and adjusted the volume upwards. Enkidu imagined thin air and the crunch of distant snow.

\--

Screams tore through Gilgamesh’s troubled sleep. He jolted awake against the couch, knocking Enkidu’s head from his shoulder. They dropped, cursing, onto his lap and cursed some more and as they fumbled around for their phone. Gilgamesh fought the temptation to help them squash that dreadful noise, lest they end up in a hopeless tangle on the floor with the damn thing _still screaming._

Finally, Enkidu went steady in his lap and the noise stopped. “Kingu? What the fu,”

The cut of their voice and subsequent silence was unnerving. Gilgamesh sat steady, trying to ignore how their forearms barred the circulation from his thighs. They were heavier than they looked. It was impossible to see their expression, but he could feel the shift in their weight. The slight shifts of irritation falling still in shock.

“Okay.” It was so soft he barely heard it. “I’ll be right there. Just- Just stay there and don’t do anything stupid.”

They scrambled off his lap in a flurry of painfully placed elbows and all but sprinted to the front hall. Gilgamesh forced himself to his feet. His keys were resting on the kitchen counter, and his shirt was draped over the back of a chair. He snatched them up on his way to the door.

Enkidu’s eyes shone like an animal’s in the dim light of the television.  

Gilgamesh rolled the keys about his finger and watched as they followed the movement. “My car is in the lower garage,” he clarified.

Enkidu grabbed his wrist and pulled.

The elevator sunk to the ground and below while Enkidu flexed their fingers until it must have been painful. Gilgamesh took the time to draw his shirt over his shoulders and button it up as best as he could in his half-conscious state. He had to wake fast. The moment they hit the garage, Enkidu bolted forward and he needed to grab their wrist to remind them that they had no idea where they were going.

Their preoccupation was evident from their lack of hesitation when they saw his car. Every time he’d introduced them to a part of his world, their face flashed an emotion he’d yet to identify. Now they just ducked under the tilted door and collapsed into the passenger seat.

Night cut through the windows on their way. Enkidu punctuated the soft hum of the engine with directions. Streetlights grew dimmer the deeper they went. Some flickered, and eventually there were more burnt out than lit.

Enkidu directed him to park between a 24-hour check cashing storefront and a factory that had long since stopped producing anything. They wrenched at the door handle before the car came to a complete stop, spitting frustration when the safety locks refused to budge.

Gilgamesh put the car into park.

They burst out and disappeared into the dark between the buildings.

Broken glass scraped under Gilgamesh’s shoes as he left the car. The high-up windows of the warehouse stood stark against a black backdrop. He could hear shavings of voices splintering through broken panes of glass. They sounded excited. He leaned his hip against the car and kept an eye on the nearby paint-chipped door.

Familiar hushed voices, both tense with concern, emerged from under the background buzz of argument. Gilgamesh looked back to the alley in time to see Enkidu press into sight with their brother’s arm slung over their shoulder. Even in the poor lighting, it was obvious that something was wrong. He was favoring his left leg, and the shadows could not account for the dark patches on his face.

Enkidu, with more strength than Gilgamesh would have thought, hefted their brother into the passenger seat and scrambled into the back, slamming the door behind them. Gilgamesh slid back into his place and glanced over at Kingu. In the light of the car, his condition was obvious. What he’d thought was a glare was a swollen eye. His clothing was covered in dirt, ripped and stained with blood. He could not get a good look at his right leg, but with the way Kingu was treating it, he suspected that it was badly injured.

“Enkidu. Give me directions to the nearest hospital.”

Kingu’s hand grabbed the wheel. “No!” Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow. Tears were pricking at Kingu’s eyes. Several of his fingers were purple, bent at oblique angles. But he persisted. “Enkidu. Call Dr. Roman.”

Enkidu leaned forward between the seats. “I don’t think,”

“ _Do it._ ”

They flinched back. “Shit. Fine. Gil, head north and then get on the highway heading East.”

Kingu’s fingers slipped from the steering wheel with a hiss as Gilgamesh pulled out into the road. “Did you attempt to fight a small army?”

“More like one-man army.” Kingu’s voice was as quiet as he’d ever heard it and tinged with withheld pain. Enkidu hissed in dismay. They did not push further.

Gilgamesh had no such compunctions. “And I suppose they pay you handsomely.”

“Enough to make it worth it,” Kingu moaned. His voice rose to say more, but Enkidu cut him off with a harsh shush.

Their call with Dr. Roman lasted hardly a minute. Kingu hissed directions at Gilgamesh while they were occupied, and he followed them without challenge.

The car exited the interstate on the other side of the city, sliding into poor-lit suburban streets. The roads were cleaner. The character was gone. Every house was a copy of the last, some mirror images, but most not. Signs flashed in the dark, proclaiming that children played nearby. Gilgamesh pressed down on the gas.

Enkidu told him when they’d reached the correct street but did not have to identify the house. Every house was dark save for one, awash with light, with the front door open. A man that Gilgamesh did not recognize, but could only be the doctor, stood in silhouette on the porch. He brought the car to a stop and helped Enkidu guide Kingu up the stairs.

Dr. Roman, still in his pajamas, accepted Kingu’s arm and hurried him into the house, gesturing for Gilgamesh and Enkidu to follow. “You two- could you wait in the living room? I need to look over Kingu. I’m sorry, I’d offer you tea or coffee or something, but- Stop trying to walk! You’re going to make your leg worse!” Each word ticked shriller.  

Gilgamesh had to grab Enkidu’s arm to hold them back.

Dr. Roman’s living room was small and hideous, painted out in eggshell and plaid. Almost every surface was covered in nick-nacks. Posters lay flat under piles of books, and additional volumes joined little figurines to cover the rest. The mantle held a series of framed pictures depicting Roman, a woman with brown hair and blue eyes, and a little girl that bore little resemblance to either.

Enkidu settled onto the couch with the comfort of someone in their own home. They laced their hands together until their knuckles went white and stared into the unlit fireplace. Gilgamesh leaned against the arm rest. “Do you often make house calls like this one?”

An answer did not come immediately. Enkidu rubbed at the fabric of their shirt where a sprinkle of blood had transferred from Kingu’s hand. “… Only in emergencies.”

“Is he your personal doctor?” Gilgamesh’s skepticism was clear. He had seen where they lived. He was rich, not ignorant.

Enkidu shrugged their shoulders. “Our moms said we should only see him.”

A scoff. “I had thought that your brother had some sense, but he really is a fool. To think the same man who crawls away at night to participate in a fighting ring would obey his parents’ wishes above all reason.”

 “He doesn’t even _like_ the doctor,” Enkidu confessed. “But he’ll do literally anything Mother tells him. He won’t listen to anything else.” Their head dropped down between their knees in a way that must have strained their back. Gilgamesh felt an odd urge to settle his hand between their shoulder blades. It passed. “I can’t believe he’s just running around at night beating the shit out of people for money.”

“Surely you had noticed.”

“I noticed,” Enkidu snapped. “I just thought he was running drugs or something. The guy won’t let me sneeze without fussing, and he’s taking chairs to the face very night? What the hell?”

Gilgamesh, for all his knowledge, did not have an answer. He brought his hand down on their head and pushed until they slapped his arm. “The solution is simple. Ask him.”

“He won’t tell me.”

“You did not strike me as one to give up so easily.” Gilgamesh could see the faint shift in Enkidu’s shoulders. His budding smile was interrupted by a yawn. “Though he has caused us a great deal of trouble, waking us so early. I will have him atone for his transgressions.”

Enkidu matched his yawn and knocked their head back against the back of the couch. “I’d beat him up if he weren’t a wreck already. I’m going back to sleep.” Their eyes slipped closed, brows still pinched.

Gilgamesh sighed and settled onto the couch next to them. The cushions tilted into his weight and Enkidu followed, knocking against his shoulder. They did not move away. Exhaustion fell onto his eyelids, weighing them down. He let the feeling drag him back into the dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want things to be happy again but there's a decent amount of stress to go before we can get there.


	7. Divulge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingu borrows some pajamas and coughs up a few secrets.

Soft sunlight and softer shaking drew Enkidu out of their sleep. The living room, ugly under fluorescent lights, had a certain warmth in natural lighting. They rubbed the gunk from their eyes. Gilgamesh stirred next to them, grumbling and grabbing at their arm to pull them back. “Kingu…?” And then consciousness hit. “Shit- Is Kingu okay?”

Dr. Roman smiled above them, withdrawing his hand from their shoulder. “He’s going to be fine. He’s sleeping now. It looked a lot worse than it was.”

The familiar smell of eggs wafted in from the other room. Enkidu perked up. Gilgamesh’s eyes slipped open, glittering with interest.

“There’s some breakfast in the kitchen. Kingu’s in Mash’s old bedroom if you want to go see him.” Roman walked back and hefted a bag over his shoulder. “I need to get to the office, so you’ll have to lock up after me.”

“Wait.”

He cocked his head.

Enkidu shifted upright, brows knit. “His leg- is it broken?”

“Oh- I mean, it’s probably a mild fracture, but you two have always healed quickly. I’ve asked him to be careful and use crutches for the next few weeks.” He scratched at the nape of his neck. “I’d ask him to come see me for a check-up just to make sure it’s healing correctly, but knowing him…”

“I’ll make sure he does.” Enkidu insisted and lifted themself onto the excessive carpet. “C’mon, Gil. Let’s eat.”

Gilgamesh slid to his feet and cocked an eyebrow. “And his fingers?”

Roman started. “Fingers?”

Gilgamesh maintained eye contact.

Slides of emotion flickered across Roman’s face. He cleared his throat. “Uh- Yes, the fingers on his left hand were in bad shape. But like I said, they looked a lot worse than they were. He’ll have a few bruises, but they’ll be better in no time. You can ask him about it when he wakes up. But I’ve really gotta head out!” He flicked a hurried wave and dashed out the door.

Enkidu hesitated in the space between the living room and the kitchen. “… You go ahead and eat. I’m going to check on Kingu.”

“That would be wise.”

They nodded their thanks and soldiered up the stairs.

Mash, Dr. Roman’s daughter, had moved to her mother’s condo the year before to be closer to her university’s campus. He’d kept her room largely intact. Posters depicting constellations papered the walls, and the ledge of her large bay window was covered in pillows. Dr. Roman used to joke that she slept there more than her bed.

The bed where Kingu was sleeping now.

At some point in the night either Roman or Kingu had removed his hair tie, letting his hair fall loose against the pillow. He’d been militant about keeping his hair up for years. They had not seen it down since high school. It brought out something strange in their chest. “Kingu?”

Kingu stirred, flinching against the bruises all over his body. He pushed himself up on his elbows with a hiss to examine his leg, encased in a cast and propped up on a pile of pillows. “I can’t believe you brought him to help.” His voice was slurred from sleep.

“He volunteered.”

“I bet he did.” Kingu grumbled. “… But I guess he’s not as big of a piece of shit as I thought. That or you were a good influence on him.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“You said it so I didn’t have to,” Kingu scoffed. The motion aggravated one of his wounds. He jerked at the pain. “… Shit.”

Enkidu dropped against the edge of the bed with a little more force than necessary, hissing when their stiff muscles protested. “How long have you been doing that?”

“None of your business.”

“You woke me up at like 3am. I’m pretty sure it’s my business.”

Kingu hesitated, picking at the periwinkle sheets with his bruised fingertips. “… High school.”

“And you didn’t tell me? All this time?”

Kingu’s face twisted into a grimace, compounded by the pain of doing so. “Remember what you were telling me last night? About shit changing if you told me?”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The twin bed did not offer much room for two full-grown adults. But Enkidu wriggled down until they were lying next to him. Kingu shifted as much as he could to give them room. “Why though?”

Kingu stared up at the plastic stars pasted to the ceiling. “I guess I had a lot of aggression to work out?” he tried. “I was picking a lot of fights anyway. A friend offered to introduce me, and I figured I might as well get some money for the stuff I was doing anyway.” He reached up and looped some of his hair around his fingertips, mimicking a habit they’d shared when they were younger. “I also wanted to stop fighting the kids at school. Too close to home.”

Half-realized truths consolidated. Enkidu sighed. “Those kids that tried to beat me up in high school thought I was you, didn’t they?”

“Probably.”

“So you started wearing your hair up so they could tell us apart.”

A grunt.

“You could’ve just cut it. It’s gotta be a big liability in a fight.” They’d used their hair against each other often enough in their childhood.

Kingu turned his face into the pillow. “But I _like_ it long.”

“And I like you intact,” Enkidu reminded him.

Kingu groaned and pressed his face further into the bedding.

Enkidu gathered up three clumps of his hair and folded them over one another in the beginnings of a braid. “Are you going to stop?”

Kingu’s silence was answer enough. Enkidu tucked that argument away for after he’d recovered. “You hungry?”

Kingu nodded. He slipped his hair tie over his fingertips and tied his hair back. Enkidu offered their shoulder and helped him out of bed. The sheets fell away, revealing his purple-pink pajamas, and Enkidu burst out into a laugh. “Mash’s?”

“It was all he had,” Kingu snapped. “And my clothes were fucked up. They’re in the dryer,”

“After we eat.”

“Fuck you. Gilgamesh is gonna see!”

Enkidu stopped at the top of the stairs, nearly sending Kingu toppling down.

“What the hell?”

“You called him ‘Gilgamesh.’”  

Kingu, now squeezing their shoulder until it hurt, seemed affronted. “What?”

“You didn’t call him an asshole,” Enkidu observed. Their eyes glittered in sadistic glee. “You just called him Gilgamesh. You _like_ him.”

“I do not!” Kingu yanked on Enkidu’s shoulders, trying to force them down the stairs. “Just he helped me out, okay? So he’s not as much of an asshole as I thought. You’re reading way too much into this.”

“No I’m not!” Enkidu started moving forward again, helping Kingu down at a speed just this side of too fast. Kingu bumped down the stairs, cursing with every jolt. “Hey, Gil! Check this out! Kingu wants to thank you for last night!”

“Shut the hell up!”

They stumbled into the kitchen, nearly overbalancing once or twice. Gilgamesh smirked, a plate full of eggs and toast in hand. “Was there something that you wanted to say to me, Kingu?”

Kingu spluttered, halfway between a hiss and a growl. Enkidu maneuvered him into a chair. “I mean- Look, I was kinda a dick before and,” his face burned bright red and Enkidu couldn’t help their grin while they got him a plate. “I mean I’m sorry. Yeah, Enkidu’s got bad taste in guys, but I guess even a broken clock’s right two times a day,”

Gilgamesh’s eyebrow went higher.

“And you’re an okay guy, okay? You took care of Enkidu, and you helped them get me here so thank you, okay?” The last word came out with excessive force. “And if either of you tell our moms about any of this, I will kick your ass.” He snatched his plate from Enkidu’s hands, and shoved an enormous bite of eggs in his mouth.  

Gilgamesh’s lazy smirk spread. “Very well. I pardon you.”

Kingu’s fist made harsh contact with the kitchen counter, destabilizing pots and pans. Their rattle was the only thing that broke the ensuing silence. He looked from Gilgamesh, to Enkidu, and then back down to his hand, its fingers still purple from the pain. “SHIT.” The curse came just a little too late.

Enkidu grabbed his wrist and pulled it in towards them. “… These bruises aren’t makeup, are they?”

“No. They were clearly broken last night,” Gilgamesh observed, leaning in.

With inordinate strength, Kingu yanked his hand back and clutched it to his chest. “They weren’t broken. They were fine, okay? Just got banged up a bit. You were half-asleep and it was dark out. Dr. Roman said it’s fine. And unless you’re secretly a doctor, I trust his word more than yours.”  

Enkidu withdrew their hand and stood to fetch a plate for themself. “Dr. Roman can be a bit of an airhead, but he knows what he’s doing. Our mothers wouldn’t trust him otherwise.” They heaped the remaining food onto their plate and brought it back to the group. “But I’m definitely dragging you to a check-up for an actual x-ray.”

“Good fucking luck.”

Enkidu bared a grin. “I mean, it’d be a good chance to return Mash’s pajamas.”

“The doctor’s daughter?” Gilgamesh inquired. He looked Kingu up and down, eyes lingering a little longer than strictly necessary. Then he drew back and smirked in a way that that made Enkidu want to punch him. “They suit you.”   

Kingu jarred his leg diving across the counter.

\--

Enkidu and Kingu’s little apartment felt all the smaller with Gilgamesh sprawled out over the couch. Enkidu’s legs were going numb from where his head rested on their thighs, and it was getting far too hot, but they wanted to hold out a little longer before tossing their spending money into another hour of air conditioning.

The television hummed in the background, flashing images of exotic locales. At some point the jungle exploration program they’d initially settled on had changed into some old guy trying to catch giant fish. Gilgamesh had muted the television when it came on. Neither was paying much attention.

“New Zealand?”

“Of course.”  

“Turkey?”

“Naturally.”

“Greece?”

“Who do you think I am?”

Enkidu looked up to the ceiling. They scratched absentmindedly at Gilgamesh’s hair. “Your passport must be completely ridiculous.”

“A consequence of my work.” He shifted, and Enkidu jerked their knee up in protest. It _hurt._ “I am sure if you had the ability you would travel as well.”

“I’ve thought of it,” Enkidu hummed. “I kind of wanted to go see the Redwoods.”

Gilgamesh snorted. “You could travel anywhere in the world, and you would like to see a forest? What of the Pyramids? The palaces of Europe? The Great Wall?”

“The Amazon?” they needled.

Gilgamesh laughed. “I should have suspected. Did you ever venture outside of the Taxidermy Hall?”

“Of course,” Enkidu huffed. “I’ve been to the others. The Hall of Gems is pretty, but it’s always super crowded. The fossils are interesting. But they’re just so _dead_. The bug exhibit’s fine, and that exhibition you had on ancient China’s great too. But I figure that stuff’s more your speed than mine. Though,” Their hand stopped in his hair as they thought back. It was difficult to remember. It was so long ago. “… That exhibition you had on the Fertile Crescent way back when was nice.”

“The Fertile Crescent,” Gilgamesh pushed himself upright. “That was one of my father’s. It was intended to last only a few months, but we kept it for nearly a decade. My father said that several of his colleagues in charge of acquiring new exhibits suddenly retired.” His eyes slipped to theirs. “Your mothers, no doubt.”

“I wonder if they helped with that one too.” Miles of sea rushed by on the television. “They did seem pretty excited to show us. But I was really young so I don’t remember it too well. I just remember that I never really cared about reading any of the descriptions at exhibits, but Kingu and I made them read us pretty much every one.”

“It was a favorite of mine too.” Gilgamesh’s eyes grew distant, flickering through a mental catalogue. “I would like to bring it back… But I believe that most of the pieces are on loan to other museums. Some are no doubt still within my vaults…” A passing memory. “… And there was one item that we lost before the exhibition began.  It was a set of carvings, I believe.”

“What-of?”

Gilgamesh shook his head. “Father never said. Only that it was a shame. They were intended to be a focal piece for one of the sections of the exhibit.”

“Do you think they’re still in the museum somewhere?”

A hand landed on Enkidu’s shoulder, and Gilgamesh pulled them around with an all-too-familiar grin on his face. “I am certain of it. I have more treasures than I can bear to catalogue, but an expedition sounds like a worthy undertaking.”

“King of like an archaeological dig,” Enkidu laughed. “Bet you five bucks they were left behind a bunch of boxes or something.”

“I accept.”

Enkidu pressed a peck to his lips to seal the deal.


	8. Slip-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes third wheels are a good thing.

“How is your brother?” 

Something longing painted Fulanah’s voice as she asked.

Enkidu set aside their tray of dirty dishes and wiped the sweat from their brow. The air condition struggled to keep pace with the summer heat and stovetops. “His cast is off. It’s just a matter of making sure he doesn’t get hurt again at this point.”

“Ah.” Fulanah glanced up at the clock. Her shift was to end within the hour. “… I live in that area.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Her fingers trailed over the countertop. The sounds of Shirou and Touta’s banter swelled to fill the silence.

As reserved as Fulanah normally was, she was more transparent than anyone Enkidu knew. In a way, she was refreshing. They never had to wonder what she was thinking or what she was hiding, though they rarely liked what they saw. It was always things like this. “It’s Kingu’s fault. He was the one who got into it. I mean, I could’ve done something too. I knew he was getting into fights. It’s not like it’s your responsibility to save everyone. There are other people out there too. Unless,” they lowered their voice, “You’re planning on going Full Shirou.”

It might not have been as effective a jab if Shirou wasn’t sporting his own batch of bruises. “I have no such intentions,” Fulanah reassured them. “Someone like me couldn’t possibly be a hero. But it is nice to think that you can improve the world in some small way.”  

“You think so?”

She hefted a pitcher of water, eyes drifting back to the dining room. “Don’t you?”

Did they? The world was infinite, stretching far beyond their furthest reach. Changes like that were better left to people like Gilgamesh who stared past galaxies. People who didn’t call themselves heroes as an excuse to rip themselves apart. People who weren’t them.

\--

“Well Doctor, what’s my prognosis?” Paper crinkled under Enkidu’s legs as they kicked their feet at the side of the bed.

Roman packed away the wires that came with the echocardiogram with absent care. When Enkidu was a child, he’d been clumsy with it. Then again, he’d still been a relatively inexperienced doctor, and it was a task usually left to nurses. It was second nature by now. “I’m not seeing anything out of the ordinary for you,” he sighed. “Which means you’re not getting worse, but you’re not getting any better.”

“I mean, that’s how it goes,” Enkidu reasoned.

Dr. Roman pushed the cart into the corner of the exam room. He dropped heavy into his chair.  “Can’t help but hope for a miracle. Have you been taking your medication?”

“Yes, Doctor!” Enkidu sang, rocking side-to-side. “Twice a day, every day. Do I get a lollipop?”

Roman hunched forward in his chair with a little groan. “Your brother asked me the same thing. But he sounded like he was going to club me with his cast instead of just make fun of me.” He rolled to the computer and tapped at the keyboard. “So how’d you meet Gilgamesh? The museum? Or did he come to your work?”

Enkidu stopped rocking.  “Did you know him from my moms? Or is he just famous without me knowing?”

“No. Neither of those things. But he knows my cousin. He won’t shut up about him, so I know a bit.”

“About his personality?” Enkidu asked, amused.

“Yeah,” Roman’s smile was dry as a desert. “But he seemed pretty well-behaved when you two came over. Maybe my cousin was exaggerating. He doesn’t like anyone.”

“I like to think that I bring out the best in Gil,” Enkidu sighed, “But it could just be that he was running on like two hours of sleep. Can I put my shirt back on?”

Roman waved his permission and tapped back at the computer.

Enkidu pulled their shirt back over their head and checked the time on their phone. There was another ten minutes until Kingu would arrive to pick them up. That meant another ten minutes until they tried to drag him into Roman’s office to do one last check on his leg. It seemed healed, but Kingu was notorious for pretending he was fine in spite of significant injury.

They flicked open the browser on their phone. There was still something that they wanted to ask.

“Hey, Doctor. Do you think an ICD would help? It says that I could probably get a normal lifespan out of it.”

Roman hunched over his computer. He did not look back. “It could, but it isn’t practical. You have some unique anatomical features which would make its installation very risky, and I’m not confident that it would work even if the surgery was a success. If I thought it was worth it, we would’ve done it years ago.”

Enkidu sagged in their seat.

“But why ask now?” Roman swiveled his chair back to the bed. “You haven’t shown this much interest in a few years.” His tone was the same one he’d used in their younger years when they’d cry during every visit. They’d thought he’d lost it after he adopted Mash.  Roman’s face twisted, no doubt in response to their own grimace. “I’ll keep looking. There might still be a few things I haven’t found yet.”

“But don’t get my hopes up,” Enkidu finished.

Roman’s smile went sappy at the edges. He tossed them a lollipop. “There’s nothing wrong with a little hope.”

\--

Doctor Roman had a thing about hope. Ever since they were children, he would talk to Enkidu and Kingu about how the future was undetermined. If anything was possible, then there was no reason to despair.

Enkidu seemed ambivalent about it, but Kingu had grown to despise the word. By Roman’s reasoning, there was every reason to despair. If anything could happen, that included the bad as well as the good, and there were just so many ways things could go bad.

In the early days, when he’d first learned what death was, he’d clung close to Enkidu like they might disappear. Their mothers thought it was adorable. They never caught him crying.  

But clinging close and _staying_ close was a mistake. A few punks from school with poor eyesight got a few licks in before Enkidu drove them off. The scolding from both their parents and their doctor lasted hours. A sudden blow to the chest could be the straw that stopped his sibling’s heart.

“You need to watch out for them,” Tiamat ordered.

“Promise me,” Aruru pleaded.

So Kingu did. He grilled Roman for all he was worth. CPR classes consumed his allowance. He followed Enkidu into the city and graduate school, though he had no real interest in furthering his education.

And now he was third-wheeling another date. Enkidu insisted that it was just an outing, but Kingu knew better. Despite their recent peace treaty, he couldn’t help but toss a glare at Gilgamesh every few moments. More often than not, he was frowning back.

Sun baked sand slipped into his sandals, burning his feet. He was sure that Gilgamesh was sweating just as much as he was in his ill-advised black shirt, but Enkidu seemed crisp as ever. The bastard’d chosen an old t-shirt that nearly eclipsed their pair of shorts. Kingu gnawed his nails just thinking about it. But at least they seemed comfortable and happy.

Enkidu stopped in their tracks, sending Kingu reeling to avoid them. “Hey- Hey Gil! I’m getting something!” Their metal detector shrieked an affirmative.

Gilgamesh dropped his bag from his shoulder to his hand and dug out a trowel. Enkidu snatched it up before Kingu could object.

They’d been out looking for nearly thirty minutes, all taking turns with the metal detector, but Gilgamesh had not bothered to dig even once. Kingu and Enkidu’s knees were pitted with sand. Gilgamesh’s slacks were pristine. Considering that he’d been the one to suggest it, Kingu was prepared to launch him into the ocean given another excuse.

Of course, Enkidu did not care. They grabbed the trowel and flicked sand left and right in a rapid-fire mockery of archaeology. A coin smacked Kingu in the shin.

“A nickel,” he observed. “Sweet. We have almost enough to split a chocolate bar between the three of us.”

“It’s not about what we find! It’s about the adventure!” Enkidu opined. They passed the metal detector to Gilgamesh and retrieved the coin. It went into their pocket, with the rest of the change.

Kingu wondered about that. It was not exactly a tourist beach. The sand was too coarse to be hospitable to bare feet. Most of the people feeling the heat had surely gone to other, prettier areas with lifeguard towers and ice cream stands. If they wanted to have an adventure, there were much better places. For example, “Weren’t you two going to search for some kind of missing artefact at the museum?”

“That place is full of _dust,_ ” Enkidu whined. “We looked for four hours, and I was sneezing all over the place. For a guy who talks about how he’s got a bunch of treasures, he sure doesn’t care about the ones he already has. I bet all the stuff he’s got up in that personal vault is stuff he got in the past year.”

Gilgamesh huffed at that, flicking the metal detector from side to side with more force than necessary. “There is nothing wrong with appreciating the beauty of novelty.”

“There might be when you’re in charge of a whole bunch of old shit,” Kingu snapped.

Enkidu threw their head back and burst out laughing to Gilgamesh’s obvious chagrin. The warmth in his chest bothered Kingu as much as he reveled in it. They’d been laughing more lately. More than he’d heard them since middle school. They were happy with Shamhat, yes, but her stunted sense of humor was her primary flaw.

So Kingu tolerated the sand between his toes and tried to focus on the way his sibling grinned in the searing sunlight. That focus was a blessing.

Enkidu wavered like the heat haze over the sand. It was a small movement, easily explainable by the shifting ground. “Kingu?” Their voice was soft and breathless. “I feel weird.” In front of them, Gilgamesh turned to look, eyebrow raised.

Something prickled in Kingu’s spine. His hands twitched. “What do you mean?”

“Dizzy.” Enkidu toppled, several words short of a sentence.

The world went slow and Kingu’s heart went fast. Gilgamesh’s arm snatched them out of gravity’s pull with a jerk. Their body dangled, arms loose and breath shallow.

“Enkidu?” Gilgamesh’s shaking told Kingu all he needed to know.

“On the ground!”

Gilgamesh’s eyes were wide- anger red and panic black. “What?”  

“Lay them down on the ground NOW.”

Kingu darted forward before Enkidu’s back hit the sand. He hurled his phone in Gilgamesh’s direction. “Call Dr. Roman. Then run and get that defibrillator from the restrooms. Fast.” Lessons pounded in his head. Check their breathing. Nothing.  He pressed the heel of his hand over Enkidu’s sternum, and layered his other hand over the first.

“I am calling an ambulance.” Gilgamesh snapped.

“Fine!”

Sand scraped under Gilgamesh’s feet. Kingu grit his teeth and started chest compressions.

The rhythm of repetitive motion and the song keeping time kept Kingu moving. He did not look after Gilgamesh. Did not look at his sibling’s face more than necessary. Kept hurling his weight against their chest when he felt something crack under his palm. His teeth ached more than his arms. The most important things right now were ensuring that there was still blood pumping through Enkidu’s body and oxygen in their brain. If they ended up in a coma he’d never forgive himself. (There were other outcomes. Much more _likely_ outcomes. He couldn’t afford to consider them.)

Gilgamesh returned with a plastic case gripped in one hand, his presence foreshadowed by his authoritative snaps into the phone. Phantom sirens entered Kingu’s consciousness. He forced his hands to keep rhythm through the way his heart skipped.

Gilgamesh pressed his hand over the phone and hissed out a question.

Kingu did not bother making meaning from the sounds. “It’s their heart. Put that down. Follow the instructions.”

If Gilgamesh said anything else, Kingu did not hear it. All that mattered was the click of the AED, and the ever-nearing sounds of an ambulance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY.
> 
> I hope this isn't moving too fast, I know that the longer this fic gets, the lower the chances of me finishing it. I will try to get the next chapter out soon. (This one was hard for me to write for some reason.) 
> 
> I did a lot of weird searches for this chapter, and even stranger ones for the next. That said, there are definitely some medical errors and/or inaccuracies in here. A small number are intentional, but most are just me being ignorant and screwing up. 
> 
> Did you know there are programs where people raise money to put AEDs in places like beaches? How cool is that? There's one in the building I work in, and it turns out they're easier to operate than I thought.


	9. Smoking Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things you learn on the job pop up in the most unexpected places.

Neither Gilgamesh nor Kingu had been to an emergency waiting room. Kingu did not say so, but the way his eyes darted to every corner spoke volumes. The walls were fresh white, likely to reflect cleanliness, and the chairs were cheap vinyl that could be cleaned in the event of vomit or other unpleasant substances. Around a quarter of the chairs were occupied. Some visitors kept glancing at the reception desk, jumping every time a name was called. Others tucked themselves in the corners and kept their heads down.

Gilgamesh and Kingu became the latter. They sat with one chair between them. Kingu stared unblinking at the tile floor while Gilgamesh swiped the sweat from his palms on his pants.

They’d been so _pale._

Gilgamesh had seen corpses in his lifetime. Most were old and shrunken and hidden behind plexiglass in his exhibits. Some were frozen at the top of international peaks. One was his father, lying in a coffin. But he’d never seen life go still so quickly. He’d never seen the corpse of someone he considered his equal.

But Enkidu was not dead. Not yet. “They were breathing when it left.” He was not sure if he was saying it for himself or Kingu, shaking beside him.

“For now.” Kingu’s voice was quiet, but its implications were loud in Gilgamesh’s ears.

Aggression came first. Flash-fire fuse igniting indignation. Then Kingu stared wide with tears in his eyes, and it extinguished.  There was a shadow of Enkidu there. It was not that he’d never noticed the resemblance, but without his eyebrows pinched together it was clear how close they were.

“What are their chances?” Gilgamesh had never once heard his voice shake like that. He hardly recognized it.

Kingu looked back to the door separating them from the emergency room. “I don’t know. If I hadn’t given them CPR and you hadn’t grabbed the AED… Zero. They’d be,” his voice choked. He powered through. “…But I was, and you did. We got their heart back beating. It’s just I don’t know,” his hands fell open on his lap. He stared down at them. “I don’t know if I did well enough. Even if they live at least some of their brain started dying. They could go into a coma, and even if they don’t,”   

It hurt to ask so Gilgamesh didn’t.

“You seemed to know what you were doing.” He said instead.

“I’ve been practicing for a long time,” Kingu sighed. “I bet they didn’t tell you anything.” Gilgamesh’s glare was cut off by Kingu’s hoarse laugh. “Cardiomyopathy, or something a lot like it. They were born with it.”

Gilgamesh’s hand twitched to his phone. “A transplant,”

“No.” Kingu’s nails cut into his skin. “Look. It’s not that easy. And even if it was, it wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“We’re weird, _okay_?” A few of the others in the waiting room turned to look. One hissed irritation. He lowered his voice. “We’re fucked up. There’s a reason we only go to Roman. No one else knows how to handle it. They’d never find a heart that matched unless they cut it out of me. I was surprised the AED even worked.” There were dark circles under Kingu’s eyes, and Gilgamesh could not tell if they were the remnants of bruises or exhaustion. “Did you call Roman?”

“No.” Gilgamesh forced out a breath. “The operator demanded that I stay on the line.”

Kingu grabbed his phone and moved away, already dialing. He remained there for several minutes, phone alternating between his hands and ear but never speaking.

Fresh air rolled in as the doors slid open.

“Kingu?”

Gilgamesh jerked his head to look as if someone had called his own name. Roman powered across the threshold, short of breath. He looked briefly at Gilgamesh, before meeting Kingu halfway. “Your mothers called. Are they already,”

Kingu grabbed his arm and yanked him to the reception desk. Roman did not need much coaxing. Rapid conversation immediately ensued. Gilgamesh got to his feet, moving closer as Kingu’s voice went louder.

“He’s their _doctor_! You need to let him back there!”

“I understand, but he is not affiliated with this hospital so it’s a little,”  

“Kingu, calm down.” Roman’s voice was clearer than Gilgamesh could remember hearing it. There was steel hiding under his flustered demeanor. “I understand that I will not be able to examine them, and I will not be able to order tests. But I have important information about their history that their nurses and doctor will need.”

Stunned silent by his change in demeanor, Kingu stood still by the window. He turned to the sound of Gilgamesh’s footsteps.

A nurse, a young man this time, appeared behind the woman at the desk. “You said Enkidu’s GP was here?”

Roman snapped to attention. “You tried an IV?”

The nurse, eyes wild, nodded. “But when we inserted the cannula, the blood-” his mouth snapped shut.

Gilgamesh looked to Roman and then Kingu. Both seemed tense but no more worried than before.  He recognized the set of their shoulders. He’d seen it at Enkidu’s dinner table on their second date. Defensive.

Roman nodded. “It isn’t life-threatening but there are things you need to know to treat them. I need you to let me see them.”

Silent conversation passed between the receptionist and the nurse when their eyes glanced past each other. The door to the emergency room swung open. “Hurry.”

Roman leapt through.

The door slammed shut behind them, leaving Gilgamesh and Kingu alone once more.

\--

Knowing that something would happen was different than seeing it. Until it happened, it was easy to pretend that everything would continue like it always had. Like Enkidu was special. Like their heart wouldn’t succumb to its defects. It was easier for Roman to fool himself with Enkidu than it was with his other patients because they _were_ special.

Like this, their skin was pale enough to blend with the sheets. Their nurse hovered beside them, an intravenous line dangling between his outstretched palms. Roman accepted the tubing and glanced into the cannula. It was not at all uncommon for a little blood to flow back into the IV upon insertion. It was generally considered a good sign because blood meant they’d hit a vein. There was no blood here. Whatever clouded the saline was tan and gritty. Roman had not seen it since Kingu appeared in his office well after midnight and fell unconscious on his couch. He passed it back to the nurse.

“They have a rare condition,” he explained. “But it isn’t life threatening.” It was not a false, but it was not exactly true. Roman could only lie through omission. “A pulse oximeter probably won’t work either. Their blood’s opacity messes with the sensors. If we want their pulse, we’ll have to check it manually.”

The nurse seemed skeptical. Roman could hardly blame him. He’d been skeptical too at first. He walked him through the best methods to get all the measurements they needed and stayed behind to watch over Enkidu when the nurse went to fetch their emergency doctor.

Roman slipped his fingers against their wrist. Their pulse beat against him. It was weak but it was there. And so was the tube that one of the nurses had shoved down their throat.

He pressed his face into his hands and wondered how the hell he was going to pull this one off.

\--

Tiamat and Aruru arrived hours later, both flushed and frantic. Aruru rushed to Kingu, sweeping him up into a hug that shocked him stiff.

Inside her arms it felt like Before. Nature walks and home-cooked meals. Childish glee, family dinners, and bedtime stories about nostalgic days long past. But that was not to say he’d forgotten. “I’m sorry.” The words left a sour taste in his mouth, but they kept spilling out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

“There is no need for apologies.” Gilgamesh’s voice rang clear, regardless of the mood. “Enkidu lived because of your instructions.”

“For now!” Kingu’s voice knotted against his mother’s chest. She smoothed down his hair. “Just for now.” He could feel the red of Gilgamesh’s eyes digging into his back. Could feel the discomfort radiating off Tiamat. She had never been good with emotions. Kingu hung suspended in the center of a thousand different feelings. Aruru’s hand in his hair kept him anchored until it slipped away to the sound of her partner’s voice.

“Roman.”

Kingu wrenched himself away from his mom and looked to the door. Dr. Roman stood at the edge of the waiting room with a strained smile clear on his face. “They’re stable. Family can come in to visit now.”

Kingu hardly heard the words, but he caught the meaning. His feet moved before his brain did.

He felt those eyes again. Aruru was already through the door when he strained back to look at Gilgamesh. It was not that he wanted to, or that he felt he needed to, but his presence was overpowering.

Here in the waiting room Gilgamesh seemed out of place. Kingu would never tell Enkidu this, but he knew that Gilgamesh was meant for ballrooms, not sterile sickwards. But there he stood, face flushed indignant and a little more. Fear. Not just for Enkidu, but not just for himself either.

Tiamat lingered beside Kingu, waiting.

Kingu cleared his throat. “… Gilgamesh is coming too.”

Roman could not have heard, but Tiamat did. She dropped a hand onto his shoulder and squeezed. “All right.”

They did not look back. An extra set of footsteps followed them into the halls.

Enkidu did not have a room of their own yet. They lay still in a bed cut off from a hoard of other beds by flimsy curtains. There were both fewer and more tubes than Kingu’d expected. One trailed up from the crook of their arm, and another disappeared into their mouth. The monitors in the corners of the makeshift room were dim. Only the soft rise and fall of their chest indicated that they were alive.

Gilgamesh slipped in through the curtains and stood firm beside him. He did not thank him for the invitation, too stiff about the shoulders to even speak.

“Their pulse and heartbeat appear normal,” Roman explained. “Though we won’t know the full extent of the damage until they wake up.” He paused. “Well… If they wake up. For now, we need to decide whether to put them in a medically induced coma.”

“And why the hell would you do that?”

Tiamat shot Kingu a glare that could wither gardens. He did not flinch.

Roman did. “I mean- Cardiac arrest,” he gathered himself, slipping back into the confident tone he’d used with the receptionist, “It’s very painful. I’d like them to stay unconscious at least until the pain passes. You know that you both don’t respond well to painkillers.”

Kingu had little to say to that.

“We’re not sure if their brain got enough oxygen. I’d say there’s a 30% chance or less of them coming out of this with no major impairment. But that is still very high, considering where it happened.” His smile was soft, made harsh only by the lighting. “You did really well, Kingu. I don’t know if I could’ve done better if I were there.”

There was an obvious weak point in Roman’s words, but Kingu restrained himself. “… Gilgamesh helped too.” Gilgamesh did not seem smug at the acknowledgement. He hardly seemed like much at all. He remained frozen, staring anywhere but Enkidu’s face. Kingu’s head ached but not as much as his arms. “I just did what all the classes taught me. I think I felt a rib break.”

“The hospital sent them for an x-ray a little while ago. I asked them to send me a copy.” Roman slipped a tablet out of his beaten bag and tapped in a code. He tilted the screen. The ghost of Enkidu’s ribcage grinned back at the room. Kingu had to strain to see past the waterfall of Aruru’s hair. “It was probably just the cartilage popping. There’s no sign that you cracked their rib or sternum.”

Relief sagged through Kingu.

And then Gilgamesh spoke. His voice drifted, indeterminate as a dream. “That image cannot be theirs. That is not skin or bone.”

Kingu went stiff. Gilgamesh’s shoulder brushed past his own in the small space inside the curtains.

“That is clay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my sister for being THE ABSOLUTE MVP for this chapter. She's a nurse, and she really helped me with a lot of the fiddly details of this chapter.   
> That said, I'm sure I hecked up a few of the medical details (particularly the timing of things). If you see any errors, that's me and not her.   
> Sorry this took a little longer than I implied it would last chapter. First week of classes hit me harder than expected along with revisions to a paper I'm writing.   
> The next one may take a bit longer than usual.


	10. Two-Faced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's rarely a clear an answer in this kind of thing. Tiamat and Aruru picked one a very long time ago. Gilgamesh disagrees.

Twenty-seven years was a long time for a mistake to linger. That mistake grew and changed and dug its roots into their every day. They could not imagine life without it.

Twenty-seven years ago, Aruru and Tiamat returned from an expedition to the Middle East with several crates crate of relics they’d purchased and borrowed from local sources. Lugalbanda helped them crack them open in the back halls of the museum. He cheered and cooed over every piece, watching as his researchers in residence lifted clay tablets and stone carvings with careful hands. Each one was placed in a new container and taken away to somewhere with better lighting and gentler air.

At the very bottom of the largest crate, almost swallowed by its packaging, was a sculpture. A researchers’ hands hesitated at the edge of the container. “…This kind of realism and motif isn’t consistent with the time period.”

“We had it tested ourselves,” Tiamat snapped. “Unless you would like to question our qualifications?”

The researcher shook her head and lifted the sculpture free. “Of course not. But I would like Dr. Archaman to take a look.”

Lugalbanda nodded. “It could not hurt to get a second opinion. I want only the best in my museum. Besides, he has had some luck in identifying the stranger things we’ve found in the past. Do you two have any objections?”

“I would like to oversee,” Aruru announced. Tiamat stood firm beside her.

“I have no reason to stop you.” Lugalbanda sighed and stripped out of his gloves. “I will ask him to come at his earliest convenience. We are hoping to get this exhibit set as soon as possible. I will call you when I know more.”

\--

The number of people that Goetia Archaman got along with could be counted on a single hand. He was fond of his cousin and tolerated Lugalbanda for the opportunities he offered. Tiamat was one of the few he claimed to respect.

But the way that she craned over his shoulder as he examined her latest find was irritating. “I need _space_. I am not going to damage it.”

“I know you won’t,” Tiamat reasoned, “But little Gilgamesh has told me in no uncertain terms that if any harm comes to it, he will be very upset.”

“I was unaware that you were taking orders from Lugalbanda’s son.”

Aruru filled in for her partner. “Not at all. But he is such a sweet boy. It would be a shame to disappoint him.”

Goetia adjusted his glasses and leaned in closer. The statue, though it seemed strange to call it such, depicted two figures. Babies clutching close. Though it was made of clay there was no obvious sign of workmanship. If not for their color and texture, he would have thought Tiamat and Aruru had offered him two tiny corpses. “They look like golems.” He traced their outline with his fingertip. “I have examined similar relics in the past, though none of them were this old. There are records of clay automatons in many cultures. The oldest thorough records stem from the middle ages, though stories of humans made from clay date back much further.”

“There are creation myths consistent with that in the region this was found,” Tiamat confirmed.

“Are you suggesting that there’s some truth to them?” Aruru leaned forward and examined the statue. “It is strange, but that may be a bit of a leap. I’ll be the first to admit that Tiamat and I have seen some inexplicable things in our travels, but a real, working golem would top all of them.”

Goetia slipped a small piece of paper from the edge of the table and drew several sharp lines into it. “Most legends say that you can activate a golem through words. Some say that you should carve the name of God into its head or a different sacred phrase. Others say that you should place paper with writing in its mouth or head. Of course, paper did not exist when these two were created, so it is probably the former if anything. The question is, of course, which god.”

Tiamat rolled her eyes. “Just what are you trying to accomplish with this?”

“Nothing,” Goetia replied. “It is nothing more than curiosity. A little exercise in mimicking the past.  We all researchers after all. It could be educational. Here.” He rolled up the paper he’d been scrawling on and passed it to Tiamat. “Why don’t you try?”

She scoffed and passed it to Aruru. “I have no intention of risking damage to the artifact for a game.”

Her partner, however, seemed a little more interested. She unrolled the paper and glanced it over. “Ninhursag. The mother goddess that served as midwife to humanity after Nammu created them from lumps of clay. Appropriate. Though you’ve made a small mistake in the Akkadian.” She rested the paper in the crook of the first figure’s neck.

“Then I will try again,” Goetia sighed. He scratched another collection of characters and passed it to Aruru for examination.

“Nammu this time,” Aruru laughed. “Also appropriate. Here.” She passed the paper to Tiamat. “I see no problems. Would you like to do the honors?”

With a heavy sigh and a roll of her eyes, Tiamat tucked the paper next to the second figure.

Little mistakes.

Things that never should have mattered.

But the clay went soft and the first figure started to wail. Tiamat snatched the paper resting on its shoulder away. Goetia grabbed her wrist to protect the other one. Simple. Easy. From a clay sculpture to two crying children under the harsh light of the lab.

\--

Enkidu’s breath and the bustle of the emergency room were a constant background to the lull in conversation. Aruru took stock. Gilgamesh’s face was what she’d expected; a mix of confusion and incredulity. Tiamat stood stone still, Roman looked resigned, and Kingu… “You knew.” She reached out for his hand. He flinched away. “When? How? We were so careful.”

“Would you shut up?” Kingu’s voice was low and strained. “What if they wake up and hear you?”

Aruru lowered her voice, taking on the same sort of hiss that echoed Kingu’s irritation. “Roman, did you tell him?”

Roman’s face flushed red. “Of course not!” His volume shot up then fell down over the course of the denial. He looked to Enkidu as if they’d be that easy to wake, then to Kingu. “He was injured. When we went to clean the wound…” He moved his arms in a helpless gesture. “It was too deep. Once we got the blood out of the way, you could see everything. There was just… clay. It wasn’t the kind of thing I could make excuses for.”

“Our disguise is barely skin deep,” Kingu elaborated. “The further in you go, the less it bothers keeping up appearances. If you knock us out, things get even worse.” His eyes drifted over to his sibling. “We need to get them out of here before things get more complicated than they already are.”

“So you have no intention of telling them.”

Aruru turned to Gilgamesh, eyes pained. “Do you think that would make them happy?”

His face burned back at her. Rage. Self-righteousness. Conviction.

“They do not have long to live,” Aruru explained. She looked to her son, and then to her child, laid out in the hospital bed. “It is a miracle that they have made it this long. But as a human they have hope for medical progress, no matter how slight.”

“That is little better than giving up,” Gilgamesh snapped. His hands were white against his face’s red. He was shaking, though Aruru did not think that he was aware of it. She considered reaching out for him. His volume swelled with the desperation that she’d heard in Enkidu’s early fears. “They cannot die! If they are not human, then we simply need to find a doctor that is not completely incompetent.”

Tiamat, silent until that moment, pushed to her feet. “You believe that you are special. It is no wonder. Your money gives you status. But wealth is not wisdom. Do you think that we have not been looking? That we have not been _trying?_ ”

Aruru closed her fingers around her partner’s wrist and squeezed. Tiamat was tense, emotional in a way that set her on edge. She locked eyes with Gilgamesh and kept her voice quiet. “Gilgamesh, we are grateful for your help. You’ve made our child happy, and you helped save their life. But you need to leave.”

Only Enkidu was immune to the mounting tension. Gilgamesh stood stalk still, teeth grinding out his anger. But Aruru’s eyes were vengeance, and Tiamat boiled a steady rage beside her. The tension only grew, moment by moment. Gilgamesh’s eyes cut to Kingu. Kingu, sitting quiet by his sibling’s bed, beset by a bone-deep exhaustion that did not allow for anger.

All at once, Gilgamesh gnashed his teeth and ripped open the curtain. “Fine then. Kingu- contact me the instant anything changes.”

Kingu offered a non-committal shrug, but Gilgamesh was no longer there to see it. Aruru herded Tiamat back to the side of the bed before the curtains fell closed. “Roman, how long will it be until we can move Enkidu from the hospital?”

“It depends on how stable we can get them and how quickly.” Roman slipped his hand under Enkidu’s wrist and pressed his fingertips to their pulse. After a quiet moment of counting, he nodded. “I think that I can hold the hospital’s doctors and nurses off for at least a few hours with your help. Maybe by tomorrow.”

Aruru settled steady on her feet and closed her eyes. The buzz of the hospital outside their little curtained bubble crested and broke. Under the thin hospital sheets, Enkidu’s chest rose and fell. Kingu’s heel tapped an anxious rhythm on the hard-worn flooring. “Thank you, Roman.”

He started and looked up, eyebrows knit.

“For your help. We’ve asked a lot of you for a long time now.”

Roman’s confusion melted into a smile. He adjusted the sheets under Enkidu’s arm. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Sure, it’s difficult, but I’m just doing my job.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Aruru twitched the surrounding curtains until the edges overlapped.  It did nothing to muffle the sound, but it would block out the worst of the prying eyes. She looked to Tiamat and received a nod. Then she looked to Kingu. His phone dangled loose between his fingertips, though the screen was dark. She gestured for him to put it away. After a moment of hesitation, he acquiesced. “Before we bring them home, there is something that I’d like to discuss.”

\--

Aruru and Tiamat kept Enkidu and Kingu’s childhood rooms as preserved as practicality allowed. In practice, this meant that there were a few faded posters plastered across the walls, air mattresses in place of the beds they’d moved to their apartment, and embarrassing childhood dressers. Still, the cracked ceiling was a comforting sight on Enkidu’s tired eyes.

Their chest ached. Their head pounded. They could not quite remember what they’d been doing before they’d fallen asleep, other than the impression that they’d been happy. In a feat of Herculean effort, they forced themself onto their side to look at their childhood nightstand (covered in peeling stickers). Their phone dangled over the edge. They slapped a hand down over its back and dragged it in close. The drop from the nightstand to the mattress was enough to activate the screen. It was six thirty in the morning, and their new messages and missed calls were approaching the double digits.

Considering their pathetic contact list, that was more than enough for concern. The most recent message dominated the screen. It was from Gilgamesh- a request that they contact them when they woke up. Odd, but not alarming. They tapped out a quick greeting from their home screen and set their phone aside.

They could not remember coming home. It was not unheard of for them to spend the night at their parents’ place after a family dinner, but the absence of continuity was cause for concern. They picked their phone out of the covers and rolled back through the messages. The most recent were from Gilgamesh and Kingu. They’d already responded to the former and left the latter. They were more worried about the following texts.  

There were three from the restaurant- two demanding to know where they were, and a third asking after their health. Had they missed a shift? They pushed the texts to the side to check the day. Wednesday morning. The last they could recall was Friday. They’d finished their shift late, returned to their apartment, and confirmed their outing with Gilgamesh and Kingu the next day. Had they had too much to drink? They usually weren’t so careless, but it would explain the headache and at least some of the memory loss. One more set of messages.

Shamhat.

_Enkidu, are you okay?_

_Kingu told me what happened._

_Please text me when you wake up._

And then, one final message.

_I miss you. Please._

There was no further context to tell them _what_ she was asking for. Enkidu lurched up on the air mattress. Pain pulled at their arm. They looked over.

An IV parked on the far side of the bed wobbled under the force of their pull.

“Mom?” Their voice cracked. They tried again. “Mother? Mom?”

The IV line stitched things together. Pain in their head. Pain in their chest. Their childhood bedroom. Missing time and unread texts.  Their breathing accelerated. “Kingu?”

Crashes followed down the hallway. Raised voices and hurried feet. Kingu burst through the door first, nearly tripping over the threshold. Aruru was not far behind. They all but fell onto the bed in their eagerness. “Holy shit,” Kingu breathed. His arms clamped tight around Enkidu’s chest, squeezing until they were of the source of their labored breathing.  “Holy shit, you’re awake. How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Roman said it would hurt,”

Enkidu slapped at his back.

“Shit. Sorry.” Kingu withdrew. Enkidu tried to steady themselves on the now unstable air mattress.

“I’m alright.” Their voice was just as strained as they felt. “It happened?”

“It happened.” Kingu confirmed. “But you made it. You’re alive.”

“I hope so, because if this is the afterlife, it’s pretty underwhelming.”

Kingu’s fist made half-hearted contact with their shoulder. It did not hurt a bit.

“I see you’re feeling well enough to sass your brother,” Aruru smiled. She settled onto the floor next to the air mattress. In the doorway, Tiamat lifted her phone to her ear and started a hushed conversation. “Do you know who you are?”

“Enkidu.”

Aruru smiled.

“You’re my mom, Aruru. That’s my brother Kingu,” they huffed, “And that’s my mother, Tiamat. She’s probably calling Dr. Roman.”

Kingu pushed forward. “Where are you?”

“My bedroom from where I was a kid,” Enkidu confirmed. “It’s six in the goddamn morning, it’s Wednesday, and my boss is definitely going to kill me.”

“Do us a favor and don’t even joke about dying. You enormous asshole.”

“Can’t you two stop arguing for even a moment?”

Enkidu laughed. “Absolutely not.”

“The moment you stop pissing me off is the day I know you’re really dead.” Kingu moved off the bed and to the corner of the room. “Mom?”

The room felt a little colder with him gone. Tiamat tucked her phone into her pocket and moved into her room. She settled on the floor next to Aruru. Despite the ache in their chest, they forced themself to stay upright because there was something about the set of their mothers’ shoulders that they associated with childhood scoldings.

Tiamat spoke first. Another bad sign. “Enkidu. We have been keeping something from you for a very long time. It may come as a shock, and it could change everything. Would you still like to hear it?”

“I know.” Enkidu looked to Kingu, avoiding their gaze from across the room. They steadied themself against the mattress. “Tell me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more major character in this fic to introduce, but we are drawing to a close. 
> 
> ..... Though I still don't know exactly how I'm ending it. I should probably figure that out soon. 
> 
> As always, I'm endlessly grateful for your comments, kudos, and support!


	11. Surprise Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkidu's on the mend.   
> Gilgamesh is up to something.

Enkidu could not remember many things, but they did remember this. Faint frosted memories of skin chipping off like dried dirt. Cuts and scrapes on their arms and legs that did not bleed. Their mothers’ abnormally early internal anatomy lessons. Dr. Roman pressing at their arm in a panic to polish out a dent.

When made young enough, memories felt like dreams.  

Kingu was the last to leave, offering a perfunctory apology for hiding things for so long.

The drip of the IV was a constant ache on their consciousness. Did they even need it? Did they need food? Water? Did Kingu know those things? Would he tell them if they asked? Would Roman know when he arrived?

Questions marched through their mind in a constant reel, their vitals begging the question of their existence.

They did not know how long they stared. Only that the chime of their phone pulled them back.

Gilgamesh’s name covered the screen. They scrambled to answer.

“Enkidu?”

They couldn’t help their smile. “’Morning, Gil.” The line went quiet. Enkidu lifted the phone from their ear to look at the screen. It counted up the seconds of an active call. They cupped it back to their ear. “Gil? Are you there?”

“Naturally. I am the one that called you.”

There was something in his voice that Enkidu could not name, though it did not come as a surprise. Over the past several months they liked to think that they’d learned a little about Gilgamesh. They’d never told him about their condition for a reason. “Are you mad?” It was not what they’d intended to say, but it slipped out regardless.

“I am furious.”

They flinched.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I knew you wouldn’t take it well.” Enkidu dropped back against the sheets. “But even though I didn’t tell you, I’d kind of hoped that my _boyfriend_ would do something other than scold me after I nearly died.”

More silence.

“Aren’t you going to at least come visit? I’m at my mothers’ place. I can send you the address again if you lost it.”

“I am busy.”

Anger flared up. Enkidu’s phone creaked under the strength of their grip. “Are you avoiding me?”

There was a sigh on the other end and then, in a voice they barely heard, “Perhaps.”

They let up their grip. It hurt a little, hearing it like that, but they thought they understood. “Could you at least drop by a little? I want to see you.”

Gilgamesh’s voice rose again, though it stayed quieter than they’d become accustomed to. “I will see. Things are… Busy. I am working on a new exhibition. There are several new people involved, and it is a little last minute, so it is taking up a large amount of time.”

“So no Fertile Crescent?”

“There may be a little, but that will not be the focus, no.”

“I’m out of commission for a few days and all of our plans go to shit,” Enkidu whined. They ducked their face into their pillow. “What’s the exhibit?”

“Ancient medical practices.”

The implications took a moment to settle. “From?”

“Roughly that area, yes.”

Their smile felt hysterical on their lips. They found they did not mind.

\--

Aceso woke well after the morning sun with a stretch. Exhaustion clung to her even as she washed her face and lingered over the remains of her family’s breakfast. It was not unusual for her to sleep in. She’d learned the habit early on when she’d taken to helping her father with his work. Unfortunately, her father did not share it.

The kitchen phone blared. Aceso jumped. House calls weren’t exactly common. Most people either texted or called the office. Still, she reached out and picked up the receiver. “Aceso speaking. Who is it?”

“I need to speak Asclepius.”

Aceso did not recognize the voice, but she could glean a little information from it. First, it was a man who was not accustomed to being refused. Second, he was probably making an international call. He was not speaking Greek. Finally, something had gone horribly wrong. No one called for her father otherwise. She cocked her hip against the countertop. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Gilgamesh. Goetia Archaman referred me.”

“Goetia?” Now _there_ was a surprise. Their family had not seen hide nor hair of him in nearly a decade, though he’d been a constant presence in her childhood. She slipped out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

It was a big house for the area. It had to be. Her father did not subscribe to any religion, but he’d gone forth and multiplied regardless. Between two consecutive wives, he had ten children: Four sons and six daughters. Every single one of them had followed in their father’s footsteps and dedicated their life to medicine. Aceso was no exception. Most of the children had scattered across the globe, but she’d stayed behind to make sure that her father looked after his own health. It was no easy task.

The door to his personal office was wide open in the same position it had been the night before. She’d left him at his desk at two in the morning. As expected, he was still there, though he looked considerably less conscious. “Father! There’s someone on the phone for you!” The indignant snaps of the man on the other line went unnoticed.

Asclepius lurched from his rest with a snort.  The coffee cup next to him clattered and stilled.

She allowed him a moment to collect himself before forcing the phone upon him. He clicked his tongue and accepted it. While she was within reach, she retrieved his mug and tottered back to the kitchen to fetch a fresh one.

She’d hardly finished fixing the coffee when Asclepius emerged from his office, dragging an empty suitcase behind him. “I’m going on a business trip.” He did not offer any further explanation.

Aceso sighed and grabbed a thermos down from the cupboard. “Do you have any idea when you’ll be back?”

“A week at the least. It sounds like an interesting case. Would you mind preparing Pharmakon for travel?”

“It must be serious if you’re taking her with.” Aceso abandoned the thermos and moved back to his office. A glass terrarium occupied the bulk of the wall. Pharmakon raised her head. Aceso lifted the lid and lowered her arm in. The snake, cooperative as ever, slithered up her arm. “Anything else?”

Asclepius’s voice came from the kitchen now. He sounded considerably more conscious than he had half an hour ago. “Yes. I need you to call a colleague and ask him if he would let me borrow several of his tools. I will send him a list of the ones I need once I have examined the patient.”

Aceso was already flicking through her father’s leather-bound address book. “What’s the last name?”

“ibn Gabirol. Solomon.”

She retrieved the discarded phone and started dialing.

\--

Enkidu groaned their way through the process of withdrawing from the Fall semester. Their advisor was sympathetic, as was the department head, but sympathy could not banish paperwork. Kingu was kind enough to run the forms to campus and back. Enkidu spent their remaining days in bed wondering how best to thank him.

Roman floated in and out like a ghost for nearly a week before he gave them permission to return to their apartment with Kingu. Gilgamesh did not visit once.

On their one-week anniversary back at the apartment, Kingu fixed breakfast while they scrolled back through a text conversation that threatened to max out their phone’s memory. Most of it was the usual banter. A harmless jab at Gilgamesh’s personality, with a remark about their lack of manners in return. More recently he’d started to speak about the exhibition.

Enkidu scrolled through the pictures he’d sent. Gilgamesh was no photographer. Almost all of them had at least the hint of a misplaced finger, and more than a few were so blurry or dark that Enkidu could hardly make them out. They retaliated with blurry pictures of the family dog.

Considering the number of shots Gilgamesh had sent last night, he was long overdue for a new dog picture, but they’d run through their stash. They’d asked Kingu for help, but he rarely kept pictures saved on his phone. There was no other choice.

With a sigh that was anything but sincere, they withdrew from their bed and grabbed a fresh set of clothing. Their footsteps alerted Kingu to their plans. He shoved his head over the far side of the couch. “You going out?”

“Roman gave me the ‘okay,’” they cheered.

“I’m texting him to check,” Kingu warned as he waved them goodbye.

Enkidu grabbed their bag and skipped out the door. Roman had given them permission to leave the apartment several days ago but had cautioned against it. He noted that they were recovering at an exceptional speed and attributed it to their inhuman constitution. They’d decided to take that as a good thing.

The woman working the reception desk of the museum expressed surprise at their return. They had not known she’d noticed them, much less realized they’d been gone longer than usual. They thanked her for her concern and slipped by. She did not bother checking their pass.

One quick glance at the entrance told them that the taxidermy exhibit was more-or-less the same as they’d left it. They wondered if Gilgamesh would be there if they were to check but decided against it. He had more important things to do. Important things that were probably hidden by the plywood boards at the far entrance.

There was a gap in the boards protected by a flimsy sign that insisted the area was staff only. Enkidu allowed it a cursory glance before slipping inside.

None of the employees gave them more than a passing glance as they worked their way through. The place was so dusty that it made them cough, and the painful smell of freshly sliced wood only made it worse.

There were no exhibits ready yet. It was still early in the lifecycle of the exhibition. Schematics plastered wooden pedestals, and plexiglass cases were propped up against the walls and floors. It made the high ceilings seem all the higher- the walls all the further. In an environment like that, Gilgamesh’s voice echoed.

They turned into side-rooms, doubling back when his voice grew softer. The exhibition was going to be huge. They had no idea how he could fill so many halls with medicinal artifacts alone.

Enkidu found Gilgamesh in the furthest room with his back turned. His arms drew large sweeps through the air as he spoke. Through the gaps they caught sight of someone they had not seen before. The man was considerably shorter than both Enkidu and Gilgamesh, with silver hair and a face that could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty. Enkidu shuffled to the side to get a better look.

Their curiosity did not go unnoticed.

The stranger broke eye contact with Gilgamesh and looked them up and down. A little half-smile broke his stoic face. “You did not tell me that you’d already set up an appointment, Gilgamesh.”

“An appointment?” Gilgamesh turned and started. “Enkidu? What are you doing here?”

“You wouldn’t shut up about your new exhibit, so I figured I’d drop by to look around.” They walked up next to him and bumped their shoulder against his. “Dr. Roman said I was good to walk around, and I was going stir-crazy. Unless you’re not done avoiding me.”

Gilgamesh huffed a long-suffering sigh. His arm slung around their shoulders. “I am done.”

Enkidu slapped their arm around his shoulders in return. He buckled under the force. “Great! Now are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Gilgamesh frowned at the word. Enkidu suppressed a snort.

The stranger had not stopped staring at them for a moment. His eyes drifted from their collarbone, to their chest, to their legs, and back up. Appraising.

“Ah, yes. This is Asclepius. He is a world-class expert in both modern and ancient medicine. I’ve brought him in to consult on the exhibit.”

It was a reasonable enough explanation. Enkidu frowned and held their hand out. Rather than shaking it, Asclepius grabbed it between both of his and lifted it to eye level. They grimaced at Gilgamesh. He seemed amused.

“This ‘Roman’ is your primary care physician?” Asclepius had an accent that told Enkidu immediately that he was not born in the area.

Enkidu looked to Gilgamesh again, eyebrows pinched. He grinned. Bastard.

“Yes?”

“Goetia’s cousin.” Asclepius huffed and relinquished their hand. “I suppose that he was the best you could do, all things considered. Not a bad choice given the resources your parents had available.”

“This guy’s not here for the exhibit, is he?” Enkidu’s voice was dry. They knocked their elbow into Gilgamesh’s side.

Gilgamesh knocked back. “He is capable of accomplishing multiple things at once.”

Asclepius did not seem bothered by their banter. His eyes drifted from Enkidu’s side to the half-finished exhibits. “I will need his number. And I would like to perform an examination of my own, provided that you consent to treatment, of course.”

A variety of emotions they’d felt irregularly over the course of their life came crashing back. Fear. Confusion. Hope. Disappointment. They knocked turned their head to mumble into Gilgamesh’s shoulder. “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying, but I don’t know if he can help.”

“I have discussed the issue with your parents and the doctor at great length. I can assure you that Asclepius is the best equipped to handle your condition.”

The man in question rolled his eyes. “Professor ibn Gabirol would have suited your purpose just as well. But I imagine that you could not bribe him away from his workshop.” Asclepius interrupted Gilgamesh on the edge of an indignant scoff. “It does not matter. This is an interesting enough case. Between your reach, my knowledge, and Professor ibn Gabirol’s tools, I should not have any problems, I am confident that we will find a solution.” His lips spread into a slim smile. “I will cure you. I guarantee it.”

Somewhere past their dismay, Enkidu felt hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little quicker between chapters than normal. 
> 
> Gilgamesh, even if you're doing something nice, you should probably talk to Enkidu first. They're grateful, but I think they're gonna punch you. 
> 
> Also, I know Avicebron would be better for this than Asclepius, but 1) I am not confident in my ability to write Avicebron and 2) I just really love Asclepius.


	12. Behind the Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkidu talks with Gilgamesh and goes to a crowded doctor's appointment.

“You could have asked me first,” Enkidu sighed. “It’s not like I asked you to find me a doctor.”

Gilgamesh shifted one of the few spare chairs in Enkidu’s shared office space. He would hardly call it a chair. Something sharp was digging into his thigh, and the armrest on the left side was cracked clean through. The only thing preventing him from complaining was that Enkidu’s chair was only even by the grace of a publication manual shoved under one leg.

“I’d thought that you’d taken the semester off.”

“You’re avoiding the topic.” Enkidu tapped a pen against their coffee-stained desk. “Wouldn’t you normally ask a person if you’re going to ship some famous doctor halfway across the world to take a look at them?”

Gilgamesh squirmed. His leg bumped the jagged part of the seat. How did they operate under these conditions? If he made a big enough donation to the zoology department would they buy new chairs? It was much easier to think about than why Enkidu seemed irritated.  “Why should I ask? It is obvious that anyone would rather live than die.”

“Right. I forgot that you’re a complete idiot when it comes to this stuff.”

“Are you suggesting that you would prefer to die?”

“I am suggesting that you are socially inept.” Enkidu leaned back in their chair. Something cracked. They did not flinch. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“So, you will see him then.”

“Not because I like you,” they cautioned. “Because I like me, and I’m pretty invested in keeping me around as long as I can.”

Gilgamesh waited for the irritation that came with mild rejection, but it did not come. Instead, he was washed away in a flood of relief; not because he had gotten his way, but because Enkidu might stay with him a little longer.

Enkidu seemed less than impressed. “But it’s not like I don’t expect this kind of thing with you. I’m more upset with my parents and Dr. Roman for giving you a free pass.” They kicked off on the floor. Their chair made a half-hearted attempt at a spin. It only made it halfway around before swinging back. “But I guess this isn’t the worst thing you could spring on me. It’s probably your weird, badly-socialized way of showing you care.”

“You _have_ managed to claw your way into my good graces.” Gilgamesh threw one leg over the other, trying to escape the pointy part of the seat. It hardly helped. “Is this chair my punishment?”

A little smile danced across their lips.

Gilgamesh resigned himself to discomfort. “Then if I tough this out, you will accompany me on another date.”

“I mean, that goes without saying. But not because of the doctor. Just because you’ve ‘managed to claw your way into my heart.’” They pressed the back of their hand to their forehead. “Besides, if I were to dump you, you’d be bound to die alone. You have done literally everything wrong since the moment you laid eyes on me.”

“I did save your life,” Gilgamesh observed.

“Only because Kingu told how.” Enkidu leaned in to tap their lips against his. “But I guess you did a pretty good job.”

The lingering irritation fizzled out of his blood and he pressed his palm against the small of their back. He hardly had to pull. They shifted off their chair and into his lap and goddamn if that didn’t feel _right-_ Until they settled their weight on his thighs. The sharp point in the chair dug in with a vengeance. He cussed, shoving them off their lap. They dropped back into their chair with peals of laughter and he lunged after it, stealing their breath with his lips.

\--

Consciousness came slow. Enkidu nuzzled into their overstuffed pillow and just let everything wash over them. They felt warm and relaxed in a way they hadn’t been in years, and the ache of neglected muscles did nothing to dampen it. Gilgamesh’s bed was more comfortable than anything. Unlike their sheets at home, these were soft on their bare skin.

“Get up.” Amusement tainted the order.

Enkidu burrowed further.

Strong arms that they were now intimately familiar with hooked under their shoulders and dragged them out from under the sheets. They kept their muscles loose, forcing Gilgamesh to support their full weight. If he was going to drag them out of bed, they would not make it easy on him.

“You have a very important doctor’s appointment.”

“Nooooooooooo.”

“Yeeeeees.” Gilgamesh lifted them clear of the bed. The pillow and sheets were out of reach. The spell was broken. They settled their feet on the carpet (damn- just as comfortable). “Get in the shower. I will leave fresh clothing on the bed.”

Enkidu rubbed the sleep from their eyes, finally allowing their awareness to expand to the awful stick of old sweat that coated their body. They stuck out their tongue in distaste. “Breakfast?”

“My staff is handling it.”

“Your _staff_ ,” they grumbled in a half-conscious attempt at sarcasm. The bathroom was almost as big as their bedroom back home. The shower was larger than a shower had any right to be, and the bath was more a jacuzzi than a tub. It could fit two or more people. Their sleep-addled brain made note of that for later. They lingered under the water for nearly twenty minutes before Gilgamesh slammed his fist into the door and asked what was taking so long.

A pile of clothes sat at the foot of the bed, as promised. They were not Enkidu’s clothing from the night before, nor were they ostentatious enough to be Gilgamesh’s. Enkidu examined them with a pout. There were still tags on the band of the pants and the collar of the shirt. He was trying to spoil them again. But as they pulled them on, it became clear that he was not imposing his own interests on them as he had during their first date. The pants were black, sturdy, and practical, while the shirt hung loose down to their thighs. They checked their appearance in the mirror. Nothing to complain about.

Gilgamesh greeted them at the breakfast bar of his kitchen. If there were staff, they were already long gone. Rather than speaking, Enkidu grabbed a bowl of fruit and started shoveling it into their mouth bare-handed. He huffed in amusement. “I cannot imagine your mothers raised you to eat like that.”

“I can’t imagine your mother raised you to be an asshole,” Enkidu countered.

“She raised me well, thank you.”

“Well enough that you’re tolerable,” Enkidu added. “And she’s put up with you this long, so I’m sure she’s a saint.”

“You have put up with me for this long and I would hardly call you a saint.”

“You make a good point.” Enkidu shoveled more food onto their plate. It hardly settled before it was transferred into their mouth. “You driving me to Dr. Roman’s?”

“Of course.”

\--

Enkidu left Gilgamesh in the waiting room. The offices were far too cramped for a guest and they were not sure that they wanted him there regardless. Despite his irritation, they knew he’d stay. They’d seen his phone and the message from Kingu demanding updates. As irritating as it was to be babied, Enkidu was glad that they were getting along.

The familiar paper of the exam table crinkled under their palms. The nurse had said Roman would be in soon fifteen minutes ago. Typical. They’d memorized the posters on the walls years ago, and their phone wasn’t providing any additional entertainment.

Salvation came in the form of a knock at the door and an inquiry in a familiar accent. Asclepius walked in, face buried in a clipboard. “Romani will be a few more minutes. He requested that I wait for him to arrive, but I would rather not waste any more time.”

Enkidu straightened up. They’d never seen a doctor besides Roman. Apparently there’d been a few at the hospital, but they had not been conscious for it. It felt strange.

“You are aware of your condition.”

“My heart?” They eyed the clipboard with suspicion.

“The fact that you are made of clay.”

If Enkidu had not been aware, it would have been the worst possible way to broach the topic. His bluntness planted the seeds of a headache behind their eyes. “Yeah. Magic clay I guess.”

Asclepius hummed out amusement. He flicked the paper at the top of the stack over the clip. “You were activated twenty-seven years ago, shortly before your brother. Based upon the photographs taken and tests conducted before your activation, my colleague Dr. ibn Gabirol and I agree that you were constructed approximately six thousand years ago. That said, neither of us have seen anything like you before, so we may be wrong.”

“You’re pretty blunt,” Enkidu observed. They did not bother keeping the discomfort from their face.

“Delicacy breeds misunderstandings. Misunderstandings influence treatment. Blunt honesty is considerably more effective than comforting lies. I said that I would cure you, didn’t I?” Asclepius slipped a folder out from under his arm and flicked on the light board. “Look.”

It was an x-ray with their ribs spelled out in sharp relief. They’d seen enough x-rays on television to know that there was something off with this one. The edges around the chest were usually fuzzy, but theirs stood in stark relief- almost like white pen on black paper. They pushed off from the exam table. The paper crinkled. “What’s that?”

Asclepius tapped the end of his extensive sleeve on the film’s center. “That is your heart. Or part of it at the very least.”

Flesh was usually just a ghost on x-rays. Enkidu was still struggling to accept that their body was a very convincing fake, and the bulk of the image did not help. Their lungs were dark shadows against their ribs. And then there was their heart. Asclepius was correct. They had not recognized it as a heart because it was only a piece of one. It had the same sharp quality of the outline. “That’s the clay…?”

Asclepius smiled like a proud parent. “You are sharp. Yes. That part of your heart never fully ‘activated.’ There are several other parts of your body that are the same,” he gestured to some additional shapes on the film, “But they are mostly ‘bone.’ They do not need to move for you to be in good health.”

“Did Dr. Roman know about it?”

“Yes. He’d noticed it in your echocardiograms. The end result is similar to cardiomyopathy, so he has been treating it as such.”

Enkidu tapped their fingertips to their neck. Their heartbeat was steady as it had ever been. “So I’m… Defective or something?”

Asclepius barked a laugh. He snatched the x-ray down from the wall and slid it back into its envelope. “Hardly. Every body has its idiosyncrasies. Life is built on vestigial traits as much as it is on function. I regret to inform you that you are similar to the rest of us that way.”

A knock interrupted his monologue. He rolled his neck to the door. “You can come in, Romani.”

Dr. Roman slipped in with an over-stuffed cardboard box stuffed under his arm. “I’m sorry I’m late- my last appointment ran a little long.”

“As usual,” Enkidu smiled. “Asclepius was just filling me in on the details.”

Roman looked relieved. He pulled up a third chair, usually reserved for parents of childhood patients, and took a seat. “We’ve tried the obvious things. I’ve tried using paper like your mothers did when you were born, but we didn’t have any luck. Do you remember?”

They shook their head.

“You were really young,” Roman reasoned. “After that we weren’t really sure what to do. I asked Goetia for advice, but I don’t think he’d met Asclepius yet. Luckily Gilgamesh tried again and was willing to foot the bill for the plane tickets.”

“I will have to scold them both for not telling me sooner. You are a fascinating case.”

Enkidu’s irritation, which was beating a swift retreat, re-emerged. “That’s great and all, but do you have any leads?”

Asclepius grinned. He put his paperwork aside. “We are working on it and making progress. Some of the artifacts your partner brought in for his exhibition have been very useful.” He plucked a paper from his clipboard and held it out for them. “This is the first part of your treatment plan. I have asked a colleague who is an expert on this sort of thing. He has given me several recommendations for your maintenance to prevent future attacks. You should share these with your brother. Good health is no excuse for neglecting yourself.”

Enkidu accepted the paper and glanced down the list. Some instructions echoed things Roman had told them a million times before. Others were new. Their fingers traced over mineral concentrations and little tasks. Many strange, but nothing strenuous. “So. What’s the rest of the plan?”

Asclepius looked to Roman. He smiled back. “Have you heard of the Enuma Elish?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains two very special cameos.  
> They're chairs. The chairs from my labspace.  
> I've cut my arm open on that chair with the cracked armrest so many times I hate it. The one with the nail sticking out of the seat is marginally more tolerable because it hasn't made me bleed... yet.


	13. Fabrication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting WEIRD.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some mild body horror in this chapter, but it's not played for horror? If that makes sense? Is body horror slapstick a thing? Is body horror fluff a thing? That's a tag now.

In the beginning the world was water. Nammu was the sea, the raging waves that stirred chaos across the sphere. Apsu was the calm- the steady water between her rapids. They wove together, swirling in an intricate dance until Nammu was not sure where she ended and Apsu began.

Their steps stirred the world, delineating their domains with stirred up silt. And from those clouded, liminal waters came the gods.

Under Nammu’s loving eyes the gods multiplied, and she loved them all dearly. The calm seas on the other side of the silt did not share her feelings. All too flawed, the sea and the gods created war. And war begot war, death begot death, until even Nammu fell. Her body was made one with the earth. Her consort’s flesh became the building blocks of humanity.

The gods were silt, and the people were flesh.

Not a piece was wasted.

\--

Enkidu kept their new-but-dogeared copy of the Enuma Elish tucked against their chest as they slept. Gilgamesh made no move to take it from them. They’d emerged from their appointment and, before telling him anything, asked to go to the bookstore. After a mere fifteen minutes of shopping They’d insisted on a crafts store of all places. He’d accompanied them for another hour while they purchased a large container of clay and several packets of artificial flavoring. He’d tried to ask. They offered a look of such intense disgust that he thought better of it.

The pleather was peeling off the twins’ couch, but Gilgamesh supposed he’d have to bear it. Sitting in the kitchen was not an option. Kingu hovered there, alternately staring at the paper Enkidu’d given him and cussing at the enormous pot on the counter.  Gilgamesh wanted no part of it.

The couch was hardly big enough for the both of them. Enkidu’s legs draped over the armrest, and Gilgamesh was pressed as far against the edge as he could be. Their hair clung to him like a living creature. Perhaps it was. The more they learned, the less he felt he knew. The less he knew, the more money slipped through his fingers.

Asclepius was generous enough to treat Enkidu for the minimal cost of food, lodging, travel, and miscellaneous expenses. The experience of treating a rare condition was enough to cover his labor. While money was hardly an issue, bizarre costs were accumulating. Today’s unexpected request was enough cash to hire a man to collect and mail… _something_ from Iraq. He’d agreed for lack of anything else to do.

Gilgamesh’s mother was both aware of his plans and amused by his dedication. During that afternoon’s phone call she’d invited them both to join her for dinner. Enkidu’d perked up at the prospect of free food that _wasn’t_ leftovers.  He’d had to remind them that they had a shift that night.

He checked his watch. There was a little over an hour until Enkidu had to leave, and he doubted that Kingu would be willing to let him stay a moment after. He started peeling their hair from his jacket.

The meager light from their half-burnt bulbs dimmed. Kingu was standing between him and the lamp. “Hey, Enkidu. Wake up. Dinner’s ready.”

They snorted awake, dislodging the book from their chest. Kingu caught it and tossed it on the coffee table much to their raspy chagrin. Gilgamesh hissed as they lifted their weight from his legs. They really needed to stop doing this.

“I assume that you made enough for three of us.” Gilgamesh raised an eyebrow as he tried to shake the blood back into his shins.

Kingu’s smile solidified Gilgamesh’s worst suspicions. “I didn’t exactly make it with you in mind, but I’m sure both of us would be really happy to give up both our dinners to make sure you’re full.”

Enkidu hesitated only a second before echoing the offer. Gilgamesh appreciated their brief mercy.

Dinner was just what he’d feared. Three plates. Three slabs of clay, seeping slip around the edges. They sat in a sad circle around the table, staring each other down. In the past when he’d eaten over at their apartment, they’d only offered Gilgamesh the bare minimum of silverware. Now every plate was flanked by a full set.

Kingu was the first to break the stare-down. His hand hovered over his fork, hesitated, then drifted to his spoon- then to his knife and back again. “You’re sure this doctor’s the real deal?”

Enkidu stared at their plate with painful resignation. “He said the reason we heal so fast is that the clay covers for us. But when we bleed we lose a bit and we can’t get it back.”

Kingu raised an eyebrow.

“We started with a set amount and instead of getting more, we just expanded out… I think.” Enkidu groaned. “Look, half the things he said gave me a headache. We’re magic.”

“Then you should’ve gotten Model Magic instead of Blick.”

Their ruse was too obvious to be called one. Enkidu had not even looked at their share, and Kingu’s hands had long since abandoned his spoon. While they bickered, Gilgamesh carved out a generous spoonful of ‘his’ dish. “Enkidu.”

They turned, mouth dropping open to remark on his interruption.

He thrust the spoon forward.

They slapped it out of his hand.

Clay splattered on the table.

Kingu burst out laughing, clutching at his stomach. Enkidu took the opportunity to shove a spoonful of clay between his teeth. Kingu was spluttering, caught halfway between spitting and swallowing. Enkidu slapped their hand over his mouth. He wrenched it off.

 Gilgamesh pushed his plate away and locked his teeth shut just in case.

Eventually Kingu’s horror morphed to assessment and then interest. He swiped at the extra clay from his chin and grabbed another spoonful for himself. “It doesn’t really taste like anything even though I added that flavoring,” he observed. “But it feels like eating fudge.”

“And Asclepius was sure that you have to _eat_ it to replace what you’ve lost?” Gilgamesh asked, skeptical.

Enkidu wrinkled their nose and shoved their own spoonful of clay into their mouth. “We can’t exactly inject it.” It took several moments for Gilgamesh to understand them through their mouthful. They swallowed. Cocked their head as if they were evaluating. They were a little slower picking up their next spoonful. “I guess we could make them into pills.” They looked to Kingu. He seemed focused on choking down his plate. “Though it didn’t really occur to me.”

The solution seemed obvious. Gilgamesh held back for another moment trying to memorize the confused determination on Enkidu’s face before speaking up. “You are both made of clay, aren’t you?”

“Magic clay,” Enkidu corrected. Kingu rolled his eyes.

“You can add clay to other clay,” Gilgamesh observed, “By putting one piece on top of the other.”

Enkidu and Kingu stopped chewing. They turned in tandem, regarding him with deep skepticism.

“We are clay, but we’re human enough.” Kingu carved out another bite.

“We’re not water soluble,” Enkidu observed. “We’re not like this clay at all. Besides, I’m pretty sure Dr. Roman would’ve tried that already.”

Gilgamesh turned his attention to Kingu. “I understand that you are not fond of him, but surely you have not ignored him completely. Your bodies are least human when you are not conscious.”

“You’re just looking for an excuse to slap a bunch of wet clay on my face when I’m napping, right?”

His grin was strained. “No, Enkidu. That is something you would do.”

“You’re not wrong,” Kingu grumbled, glaring at his twin.

Gilgamesh propped his chin on the back of his hand. “Your humanity is the result of conscious thought. If you cannot absorb the clay into your ‘human’ body, then you only need to remind yourself of what you are not.”

Kingu’s fork slammed on the table.

“It is not an insult,” Gilgamesh clarified. “You are both unique in all the world. You are treasures more valuable than any in my collection.”

Enkidu eyed Kingu’s malicious grip on his fork. They groaned. “You’re making it weird, Gil. What you’re trying to say is it’s a ‘clap your hands if you believe’ kind of situation, right?”

“A what?”

“Nevermind. Kingu, calm down. It’s worth a shot. Unless you like shoving dirt in your mouth.”

Kingu released the fork joint by joint.

Gilgamesh watched with mild disbelief as Enkidu dug their fingers into the slab of clay in front of them. They closed their eyes.

-

_When Gilgamesh was young, too small for memory, his mother escorted him to the labs. He’d begged her. She’d always been willing to humor him. The workers did not mind. They found his presence refreshing, and he knew what he could not touch._

_His father had been absent for several weeks, wrapped up in preparing the next large exhibition. The pieces were of the usual quality. Gilgamesh knew very little about curation at the time, but he knew his father’s standards._

_Some of the researchers took breaks from their tasks to tell him little stories about their work. This was a tablet containing complaints against an ancient swindler. That was a carving that showed the story of an ancient king. This was a farming implement that helped society flourish._

_At the end of the hall, away from the rest, was a clay figure. No- two figures. The area around them was empty even of tools. He pointed an inquisitive finger._

_“That one?” A woman he’d seen on more than one occasion crouched down to his height. “We aren’t sure what that one is yet. But whatever it is, it’s very special.”_

_Gilgamesh did not need her to tell him that. He’d already known._

_-_

Enkidu’s hand withdrew from the plate, clear of clay.

Gilgamesh’s eyes ached from staring.

It looked like melting upwards. Gray pooled into their palm in a perfect gradient until there was nothing left to merge.

Kingu cussed in awe.

“There.” Gilgamesh’s voice tremored. “It is simple once you bother to think about it.”

Neither twin was listening. Kingu tapped his hand against his share. Nothing happened for the time being. “What did it feel like?”

“Like I can breathe a little easier,” Enkidu confessed. They studied their palm. Shook it. “Really weird. You try it.”

There was another crawling silence. Kingu pressed his hand down to his plate. The clay disappeared. He swore again, nearly knocking his plate from the table in his rush to get away. He made extended eye contact with Enkidu. Gilgamesh cleared his throat, ready to assert his intuition again, when they both darted for his plate. Slip splattered across his designer shirt. It was his turn to swear, irritation boiling up. But frantic chatter drowned it out.

Their hands were fused at the fingers.

Gilgamesh surprised himself with a laugh. It was more hysterical than he would have liked, but they did not seem to notice.

“You said we’ve got to replace the blood we’ve lost! I’m pretty sure I’ve lost way more than you, so I need it more!”

“That’s your own fault! I’m the one that’s sick!”

More clay flicked back and forth. As best as he could tell, they were fighting over who got to eat the rest of ‘his’ portion. While it was almost impressive how quickly they were getting the hang of things, it was getting out of hand. They had dirtied his shirt. They were fortunate that he was so fond of Enkidu.

Gilgamesh started popping the buttons so he could shrug it off.

Kingu’s squawk marked the end of their tussle. It sounded enough like Enkidu’s ringtone to catch his attention.

“Is something the matter?”

Kingu was bright red and frozen. Taking advantage, Enkidu reclaimed their hand and the rest of the clay. “Why the fuck are you stripping?”

Gilgamesh’s hands moved slower, lingering on the remaining buttons. “Are you embarrassed? How cute. I’d thought you were too muscle-bound to appreciate the finer things in life, unlike your sibling.”

Kingu spluttered. “Enkidu, do something about your asshole boyfriend!”

“Sorry! Gotta get ready for work. I’m sure you can handle it!” Their bedroom door slammed shut, abandoning Kingu to his fate.

Rather than resign himself, Kingu declared that he was going for a walk.

Gilgamesh couldn’t help his laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE BUT I'M ENJOYING MYSELF 
> 
> Did Gilgamesh think that Asclepius insisted that they eat clay, or did he just want to watch two nerds eat dirt? I will leave that up to you. 
> 
> I can't believe my summer working as a pottery instructor is being useful. 
> 
> Also I did some really weird math for the events of next (?) chapter, so I hope you appreciate it. I still don't know how I'm ending this, but I did remember how I'm resolving the main conflict here. 
> 
> I do feel like I'm rushing this a bit, but I'm sorry- I don't think I'll finish this if I don't keep it relatively short. (This is the longest fic I've ever written, not including drabble collections.) I am interested in writing a few drabbles in this AU and Complementary's AU with post-plot things and other characters. But when I'm done I'll mostly be focusing on writing my OCs, so they'll probably be sparse. 
> 
> Depending, I might be able to end this story next chapter. We'll see.


	14. Outline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkidu's feeling better, but they've got a ways to go. 
> 
> Luckily they've got a brother and a boyfriend who are pretty invested in their health.

“You seem like you are in better spirits,” Fulanah observed.

Enkidu could not afford to concentrate on much more than the balance of the food on their tray. Still, they managed a grunt.

“You’ve been gaining weight,” she reasoned. “And you are speaking to others more often. You are smiling with your eyes.”

“You’re getting more casual too,” Enkidu grinned. They pushed open the door to the dining room with their hip. “Did you finally talk to that guy at the bus stop?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice in it.

Enkidu hummed their way through the rest of their shift. As they left, they caught Fulanah greeting a man in a leather jacket. She smiled. It was awkward and unfamiliar, but there all the same. They were happy for her.

\--

Convincing Kingu to attend their second appointment with Asclepius was less difficult than Enkidu had feared. His eyes drifted over to the checklist tacked to the fridge. He asked if Roman would be there. Enkidu confirmed. After long-suffering silence, he grunted his assent.

This time Gilgamesh would not be able to attend. The exhibition was set to open in a week. Asclepius’s portion of the work was mostly done, but Gilgamesh’s was just starting.

With four people instead of three, Roman’s office was even more cramped than usual. Kingu and Enkidu jostled shoulders side-by-side on the examination table. Roman tried to shrink on the desk chair. Asclepius had wedged himself into a corner. There was a surgeon’s mask strapped over his mouth and nose. Enkidu decided to ignore it.

“I’m not sick,” Kingu observed. He made no move to leave.

“You aren’t,” Roman agreed, though he looked to Asclepius once before continuing. “We think that we’ve found a way to help Enkidu, but we’ll need your help.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Wait.” Enkidu’s palm tapped his chest as if to hold him back. “You don’t know what they’re saying yet.”

Kingu glared. “Roman’s too soft to do anything that would hurt me.”

Enkidu agreed with that assessment. But across the room Asclepius’s eyes were unreadable. The fact that three quarters of his face were hidden by his hair and mask hardly helped. He’d been just as reticent when they’d called him after their first clay dinner. To fill the silence, Enkidu’d offered information about how they’d consumed the clay and how they’d felt since. They mentioned what happened when they fought over the last plate. Asclepius ended the call soon after.

And now Asclepius was staring them down with a look that engendered equal parts fear and hope.

“We wanted to check something before we moved forward.” Roman scratched at the back of his head and smiled. “Could I get you two to hold hands?”

Kingu spat skepticism but he seemed to understand. He grabbed Enkidu’s wrist and looked expectantly. “And?”

“Do the thing.” Asclepius flapped his sleeve dismissively. “The clay thing. You can think of it as a sort of compatibility testing.”

“I don’t want him to eat my _hand,_ ” Enkidu pulled against Kingu’s grip.

“I’m not a cannibal.”

“We both ate clay!”

Kingu’s palm was abruptly cool against their skin, little patches sticking. He’d decided it was easier to comply than retort.

Enkidu closed their eyes to concentrate. Gilgamesh was right. It was just a matter of convincing themself that their body was not flesh and blood. In retrospect, the anatomy books their mothers bought them made sense. They were trying to ensure that their inhuman children were as human as possible. They wondered if Roman had a hand in it. He was trained in treating people, not… whatever they were.

Flesh tone drained from their skin, leaving behind the grey of unset clay.

Asclepius crouched down and leaned in close. “Do you have sensation in your hands when they are like this?”

Enkidu got the sense that it was a loaded question. They looked to Roman for guidance. He nodded. “A little bit. Mostly it feels numb.”

“Perfect.” A wood and wire tool engraved in some sort of script peeked out of his sleeve. “Then this should be nothing more than a little pressure.” It was all the warning they got. The wire scraped away a sliver of clay where their hands met.

It did not hurt.

They both swore anyway.

Asclepius dropped the band of clay into a vial filled with some sort of clear fluid. “Perfect. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“What the hell?” Kingu spat, lurching forward, only to fall back from the pull of his hand- still fused with Enkidu’s. “You _took_ our _skin._ ”

“Compatibility testing,” Asclepius shook the vial. Enkidu got the sense he was grinning behind his mask. “Surely you’ve heard of the concept. Romani?”

“For a transplant,” Roman rushed to explain. “We think we can do a transplant.”

Silence. Roman seemed stressed at the response, and Enkidu wanted to help it, but the words were ringing in their ears. Transplant? _Transplant_? Roman’s voice from varying ages echoed through their memories. He’d always used the same tone of voice; that same sort of helplessness that came through whenever they hit another dead-end. He was not using that tone now.

“Transplant?” Kingu asked in their place.

“We cannot activate the parts of Enkidu’s body that never operated. They need a new heart.” Asclepius had his back turned, shoulders shifting. “Naturally we cannot take yours. You may not be human, but your hearts are clearly important for your continued existence. To our knowledge, you are the only ones of your kind. The chances of us finding a compatible donor are slim to none. Fortunately, your unique condition provides a unique solution.”

Thoughts came slow, making Enkidu’s voice feel numb. They coaxed their hand away from Kingu and looked at the space left behind by Asclepius’s tools. If they turned it back to flesh, would they bleed? Roman’s hands closed around it. He smiled and started pushing the skin back into shape. It was a familiar sensation- something he’d done when they were a child. When had it stopped working? When had they fully convinced themself they were human?

Roman worked quickly. Within moments he’d smoothed it over. It was not a perfect fix, but it would do. He moved on to Kingu.

Asclepius continued. “We can make a new heart.”

“What?” Enkidu lurched forward. Kingu knocked them back with his elbow.

Asclepius gestured to a sheaf of papers on the desk with his sleeve. “Romani and I have been consulting with my colleague Dr. ibh Gabirol on how best to do it. He believes that it is possible. Provided that your clay is compatible with your brother’s, and I see no reason that it would not be, we will collect materials and ask him to craft you a new heart. Then we,”

“Materials?” An edge of panic cut through Kingu’s voice. The weight of his shoulder against Enkidu’s arm increased. Almost protective. Enkidu forced themself to push back.

“Your hair.”

“What?” It seemed like the only word they could force out. Their hand (now whole again) drifted to their hair. They felt the shift to their right as Kingu did the same.

“We need approximately eleven ounces worth of clay. Dr. ibh Gabirol suspects that you can modify and assimilate ordinary clay over time, so it is fine for healing small injuries. He doubts that it is sufficient for a major organ. I agree. So rather than using ordinary clay, we will need to take the clay from your body. But we cannot take it from a place that would impair you.” Asclepius turned back, leaving the clay sample in its container on the shelf. He gestured with his sleeve. “Assuming that your hair has the same weight as a human’s, we will need approximately one and a half meters to create a new heart.”

Enkidu’s mouth worked. “But,”

“Yes. You do not have that much. That is where Kingu comes in. Between the both of you, we should have enough.”

“You’ll both have to get pretty dramatic haircuts,” Roman added, “To about your shoulders. But that’s only if your clay looks compatible. We’ve ordered…” He hesitated and looked to Asclepius. “Some water… and silt? From the area where you were found. Asclepius and Dr. ibh Gabriol think it’ll improve the chances of success.”

“You really think that this could work?”

Asclepius glanced back to the vial on the counter. He lifted it from its rack, shook it, and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I think it will.”

\--

Much of Saturday was spent on Enkidu and Kingu’s couch, pretending to watch reality television with three cell phones sitting on the kitchen table. Enkidu braided their hair and slipped it back loose in turns until Gilgamesh was sure they’d pull it out. Kingu’s fingertips twitched for his cell. He’d hurt his knee diving after every notification until Enkidu snapped and turned it off.

Gilgamesh leaned back into the pleather as the programming ticked over to another commercial. “So,” he drawled, “What are you going to do when it’s over?”

Enkidu rocked to the side with their brother’s shifting. “I don’t know.” They watched a tropical paradise flash by on the television. It looked lovely. It was also obviously staged to sell. “We don’t even know if there will be an after. I mean, what if Kingu and I aren’t a match?”

“You are made of the same substance,” Gilgamesh reminded them.

“Yeah, but I don’t have problems and Enkidu does.”

“You’ve got plenty of problems.” Enkidu nudged Kingu in the ribs.

Kingu hit back. “Not in my heart.”

“He admits it! Sweet victory!”

“It’s not a victory if you’re more fucked up than I am.”

Enkidu shrugged. They did not look away from their phone. “Sorry, Gil. I mean, I feel like we’ve made a lot of progress, but we’re not exactly out of the woods yet. Even if Kingu and I are a perfect match, the surgery could go wrong. Or the guy making the heart could make a mistake.”

“He will not.” Gilgamesh said it as if it was truth. As if it was fact. As if he had never been so sure of anything in his life.

But.

“But what if he does?” Kingu said it so that Enkidu would not have to. He leaned across them to meet Gilgamesh’s eyes, though he avoided his gaze with all his might. “It’s major surgery. No one’s seen anything like us in thousands of years. Sure, Asclepius might be one of the best doctors in the goddamn world. Sure, this guy in Spain might have a lot of experience with golems or whatever. But he’s never made a human heart. And Asclepius’s never done surgery on something like _us._ ” He paused for breath. Enkidu could have spoken up. Could have stopped him. But they sat still against the couch, trying to feel Gilgamesh’s reaction through the space where their arms touched. “What will you do if Enkidu dies?”

An arm snapped around Enkidu’s shoulders. Their eyes met Kingu, just as wide, as Gilgamesh pulled them back against him. “They will not. _You_ will not.”

It was a promise more fragile than a petal. The kind that would wither away with the slightest provocation. But it was a promise that no one had ever made Enkidu before. They could feel the tremble in his arm they’d heard in Roman’s voice weeks ago.

_There’s nothing wrong with a little hope._

“If you’re wrong, I will haunt your ass.” Enkidu’s fingers twitched for their phone. “Though I might haunt your ass anyway.”

“I swear to God, if you two keep flirting,”

Kingu’s whining was interrupted by the buzz of Enkidu’s phone. All three of them dived for it, knocking heads and shoulders left and right. Enkidu reached it first. “Hello? Dr. Roman?” Nursing their new injuries, Gilgamesh and Kingu pressed in close, trying to catch the sound from the other end of the line. Enkidu eventually managed to tap on speakerphone.

“Enkidu?” Roman’s voice was echoey in a way that indicated he was also sharing the line. “Is Kingu there with you?”

“Is it gonna work?”

A snort-laugh bounced out of the speaker. “I see he is there.” Asclepius’s voice. “Yes. As best as we can tell, your samples are perfectly compatible. We would like you to come in as soon as you can for a haircut.”

“A haircut!?”

“Oh, Gilgamesh is there too?” Asclepius sounded amused. “Would he like to come along? It would be more efficient if he could give us the money for the postage right away.”

“The _what,_ ”

Enkidu used Gilgamesh’s shoulder for leverage to stand. Kingu drifted up after them. “Do you have time now?”

“Romani has several appointments, but I am available. Please come at your earliest convenience. I’d rather ship the materials today than wait until tomorrow.”

“Right. See you soon!” Enkidu cut off the call and made their way over to where their jacket was draped over a chair.

Kingu snatched Gilgamesh’s keys from the counter and tossed them at him. “My bike doesn’t have room for all of us, so you’re driving.” After yanking on his jacket, he pulled the tie from his hair, letting it fall around his waist. “You have your checkbook, right?”

“Stop being an ass.” Enkidu shut off the TV on their way to the door. They stood, bouncing on their toes, smile a mix of anxiety and anticipation. “And hurry up! I’ve never had a haircut before. I’m thinking of getting it cut even shorter than they said. Do you think Asclepius could pull it off? I mean, he’s a doctor and not a stylist,”

“I was thinking the same thing. Been considering it for a few years,”

Gilgamesh’s voice followed them out the door, uncharacteristically high. “Why a _haircut_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, you're awesome! I'm super duper grateful for your comments. Welcome to Gilkidu Hell! Or, well, welcome to my corner of it at least. 
> 
> Do you like my dumb math? It's really dumb math. But now you know how much hair you need to make a heart. Don't try this at home, kids. 
> 
> What the hell is this fic anyway? I don't know. But thank you for coming with me on this crazy-ass roller coaster. 
> 
> I guess there's at least one more chapter left. I still don't know how I'm ending it. Goodbye cruel world.


	15. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkidu and Kingu get an important haircut. 
> 
> Gilgamesh finishes his exhibition.

There was a kind of magic in their shared appearance. Kingu sealed it away every morning with a hair band. But knowing that Enkidu was somewhere out there, near or far, was an infinite comfort. So maybe changing his appearance was okay since they were both doing it. Still, he grit his teeth as chunks of hair fell from his head.

Asclepius was wearing his mask again today, but the arch of his eyes belied his smile. “You don’t need to be so tense. If you don’t like it, you can always get a trim from a professional after the fact.” Another skein of hair dropped into the bag.  

“It suits you,” Gilgamesh smirked from his corner of the room.

Enkidu knotted their hair together and back as they waited for their turn. “And it’ll be harder for people to pull in fights.”

“Fights?” Asclepius yanked at the next section with more force than necessary.

“Ow, ow! Shit- let go!”

“I take no responsibility for how your hair will look if you keep squirming.”

That scared him still. The cut went quick, though Kingu had no frame of reference. Asclepius sealed the bag and dropped it into a cardboard box. He’d mentioned that he was shipping it overseas. Gilgamesh had scratched out a pair of checks in response.  

Enkidu stretched from their seat and let Kingu take it in their absence. He reached up to run his fingers through his hair. They dropped through the empty space below his shoulders. He wondered if he’d ever get used to the feeling. Gilgamesh offered him a hair tie. It took several tries to coax most of the mess into its customary ponytail, though the strands around his ears and neck still slipped free.

“It would be simpler to cut it short.”

Kingu rolled his eyes. Gilgamesh did not understand. This _was_ short for him. Instead of saying so, he focused on how Enkidu screwed their eyes shut under the scissors. “It took us until ten to stop feeling our hair.”

Gilgamesh frowned.

“Our moms tried to give us haircuts. We didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to hurt.”

Enkidu’s knuckles were white. Gilgamesh leaned forward and rested his hand over them. It was a sweet gesture, utterly uncharacteristic of the haughty asshole Kingu saw he was around almost everyone else.

And then Asclepius nudged his arm away. “Yes, yes. You two are very cute. But I am trying to save your partner’s life, so give me the space to work.”

Okay, sure, it was an interruption of character development, but Kingu had to laugh. He was starting to like this doctor. Gilgamesh’s indignant arguments and Enkidu’s amusement only facilitated the feeling.

Kingu basked in Gilgamesh’s irritation while they waited. It did not have to last for long. Enkidu’s hair dropped from their back into a plastic bag, which then disappeared into the same cardboard box as Kingu’s.

Asclepius took no time to admire his work. He tossed his scissors into a pen holder with frightening accuracy. “There. That is all that I need for now. Did either of you have any questions before you leave?” As he spoke, he snatched up a roll of packing tape and set to work coating the box in an uninterrupted seal.

Enkidu perked up. “How long?”

“You cannot rush a good heart.”

The shriek of Asclepius’s sharpie on packing tape set Kingu on edge. He yanked his jacket up his arm. “You’ll call?”

“Of course. While we wait, I will need Romani and Gilgamesh’s help to secure an operating room. Is that possible?”

Gilgamesh made a noise that Kingu desperately hoped Enkidu’d recorded. It would make an appropriately embarrassing ring tone. But Enkidu was already tucked safely in their hoodie and halfway out the door. “C’mon, Gilgamesh. We’re gonna leave you behind!”

He joined them in the parking lot five minutes later, and Kingu could not ignore the dark circles forming under his eyes no matter how much he wished to. They were not a complete surprise. Enkidu’d expressed that he was exhausted from balancing the exhibition, his usual duties, and Asclepius’s demands. Enkidu’d offered to share some of the burden (more than Kingu thought they should), but Gilgamesh refused. He had, however, invited their entire family to a private party before the doors opened.

“You getting enough sleep?” Kingu bit out.

Enkidu and Gilgamesh both paused on the asphalt. They looked at each other. “Is your brother asking about what goes on in my bed?”

“You better not make any invitations that I’ve already vetoed.”

Kingu recoiled so violently that he knocked into the side of Gilgamesh’s car.  “What the _fuck_ ,”

Repressed laughter burst from Enkidu’s lips. They doubled over, wheezing for mercy. Gilgamesh just smirked.

Under his prickly attitude, Kingu was not completely ignorant of deflection. He used it often enough himself. But Enkidu was playing along so it was probably nothing. He knew through experience that they were not beyond stealing his work and hiding it if they thought he needed a break. It was one of the things he both loved and hated about his sibling.  So rather than pressing the matter he yanked open the passenger door of Gilgamesh’s car. “I swear to God, if either of you say a single goddamn word on the way back, I am jumping out of this car on the highway.”

Enkidu laughed their way into the back seat.

\--

Tables lined the main halls of the museum, shadowed under massive chandeliers planters. People dressed in black and white carried enormous platters of food. They were expecting several hundred guests.

Ninsun trailed through the halls, tracing her fingertips against cases and placards. Gilgamesh had done a wonderful job of watching over the museum in her late husband’s absence. She’d told him as much upon her arrival. He’d cocked his head as if it was a matter of course as he always did, but she could tell he was pleased.

Then one of his employees approached him with a long list of questions and she’d left him to his work. Her journey took her past both familiar and unfamiliar displays for the better part of an hour before a long-lost voice pulled her back.

“Ninsun! I was hoping that you’d be here!”

Tiamat and Aruru, older than she remembered, smiled from by the ticket booths. She was so happy to see them she hardly noticed the two unfamiliar (familiar) faces behind them. “It’s been far too long. I’ve hardly seen you since you left the museum!”

“Only for the funeral,” Tiamat huffed. Still, she let Ninsun drag her into a hug.

Ninsun maintained the hug until both Aruru and Tiamat started to struggle. Tiamat broke away, grumbling and brushing down her arms. Aruru righted her dress.

“Are these the twins?” Ninsun side-stepped the frazzled pair and rounded on the young adults accompanying them. They looked just as similar as she remembered from their childhood (Tiamat and Aruru, looking panicked, clutching two babies wrapped in cardigans to their chests). Their clothing and manner bore the difference. One was wearing a simple dress that she recognized from a shop she frequented. The other was wearing a lightly rumpled suit. Both looked like they’d rather be talking to anyone else.

“I’m Enkidu,” said the one in the dress. They hesitated a moment before offering their hand to shake.

Ninsun accepted. “If you’re Enkidu, then this must be Kingu. Gilgamesh has told me a lot about you both.” Enkidu’s hand went stiff in hers. “Nothing bad,” she clarified with a laugh. “I wanted to thank you. He has never had many friends, much less been in a long-term relationship, so I am happy that he has good company.”

“Mother,” At some point Gilgamesh had materialized behind her.

Anyone who wasn’t well-acquainted with him would not have noticed his embarrassment. Unfortunately, two people who _were_ well-acquainted were in the immediate vicinity. Ninsun could feel Enkidu’s smirk behind her back. It was infectious. “Are you all done with your work?”

“For the time being.” He looked exhausted but content. “Dinner is ready. I’ve had them set up a table in the new exhibit.”

A brief brush of wind ruffled the hem of Ninsun’s skirt, and Enkidu was at her son’s side. She had to hurry to keep pace.

Enkidu and Gilgamesh settled next to one another at the table, with Kingu sitting as far as possible from the rest. Ninsun dropped in next to him while Aruru and Tiamat filled in two of the three remaining spots.

Dinner was salmon with a side of whatever appetizers they wished to pinch from the main hall’s buffet. Enkidu asked Gilgamesh to retrieve some bread for them to share. Much to Ninsun’s surprise, he acquiesced. The moment Gilgamesh disappeared out of sight, Enkidu snatched a piece of his salmon and transferred it to their own plate.

She caught their eye.

They winked.

When Gilgamesh returned, he appraised his lighter plate, and lifted his fork.

His retaliation was so fast that Ninsun could not follow. One moment he seemed resigned to his loss. The next, a healthy portion of Enkidu’s fish was in his mouth.

Kingu burst out laughing, only for Enkidu to dive halfway across the table to retaliate. Gilgamesh, Tiamat, and Aruru knew to pull their plates out of the way. Ninsun did not. Her wine toppled and splashed, catching her side. She grimaced at the feeling of wet fabric. That was bound to stain.

“ _Children.”_

Tiamat’s voice could freeze rivers. Stopping the rowdy trio was child’s play. Enkidu shrunk back into their seat. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

“It’s fine. This shirt is fairly old anyway.” Besides, the bright red of their face told Ninsun they were appropriately mortified. And if they were avoiding her son’s gaze more than hers? It did not matter. “Still, I didn’t bring anything else to wear this evening. Gilgamesh, could you come with me? I’d like help washing it off.”

Gilgamesh led her out of the exhibit hall and to one of the unisex bathrooms. It was not ideal, he explained, but it would have to do. Ninsun knew. She’d been there when his father built the place. She pulled a handful of paper towels and dabbed at the stain.

“What did you want to talk about?”

She smiled. “Am I so transparent?”

“Transparent enough.”

Ninsun felt the smile slipping up her lips. Despite his misanthropic tendencies, he’d always been observant. “You seem happy.”

“Naturally. I have been working on this exhibition for some time now.” His eyebrow was raised in the same way he’d done as a child. Asking for elaboration without asking.

“What I mean is that you seem to be having fun. You did act very happy when you were little, but I could tell that you were lonely. You were never close with your sisters or the other children at school.”

Gilgamesh crossed his arms tight. “And?”

“I am happy that you are happy.”

“Is that so.”

“It is.” Ninsun ripped off another line of paper towels and resumed her cleaning. “I am happy to see that those two are happy as well. I was not sure what would happen to them, given the circumstances.” No matter how much she dabbed at her top, nothing changed. “No sense in trying any longer. I will go get my jacket from the coat check. It should be enough to cover the stain for the night.”

“Then I will return to the table.”

She watched him disappear through the doorway. There was a rush in his step she associated with childhood trips to the movies.

It was all too easy to think of could-have-beens.

\--

Aruru told both Gilgamesh and Kingu that they did not have to come. It would be nothing more interesting than hours of waiting, and by the time it was over, Enkidu would too tired to meet them. Still, Kingu passed his discussion section off to another graduate student, and Gilgamesh brought his tablet to the hospital to work from there.

The surgery was set for four hours. Asclepius claimed that it took him less than that on average, but that he had (of course) never done surgery on an ancient, presumably magical clay humanoid.

Gilgamesh counted down the time by turns. One hour. He’d cleared out his easier emails. Aruru was absorbed in a book, Tiamat was reading over her shoulder, and Kingu’d traversed the space between the entrance and their copse of chairs twenty times.

Two hours. Gilgamesh toggled between his inbox and a webpage listing survival rates and recovery information for heart transplants. Whenever Aruru’s eyes drifted to his tablet he closed the site, only to open it again when she looked away. Kingu had transitioned from linear pacing to circles that disrupted the lobby’s foot traffic.

Three hours. Aruru suggested that Gilgamesh and Kingu retrieve food from the cafeteria. The walk ate up fifteen minutes, five of them spent lost. Gilgamesh hardly noticed the freeze-dried-and-microwaved meat he’d purchased. They got lost on the way back too, whiling away another twenty minutes. Once they returned, the four of them sat in a row, chewing through stringy sustenance in mutual silence.

Four hours. Kingu stalked the waiting room again. Gilgamesh typed the same email three times before he abandoned his tablet. Aruru’s book was now tucked away in her bag, snugly as her head was tucked into Tiamat’s shoulder. They whispered to one another. Gilgamesh made no attempt to listen.

Five hours. Gilgamesh’s pants were rumpled from how he gripped at them. He’s long since given up glancing at the clock in favor of staring it down. Kingu’s fingertips were cracked and bleeding from the way he gnawed at his nails. Tiamat’s phone was blinking low battery as she glared at Roman’s contact information.

And finally, _finally,_ Roman emerged from the doorway. Gilgamesh would not notice his exhaustion, the stains on his scrubs, or the scratch of his voice until much later. All he saw was his smile.

\--

The bitter cold tasted like the sweetest water after a marathon on Enkidu’s tongue. They held their breath to let it linger just that little longer. Sweet and cold against the ache and warmth of their legs.

“Are you tired?” Gilgamesh grinned at them from above, challenge in his voice.

Enkidu wrenched their crampon from the ice and drove it into the pack ahead. “Just savoring the moment.”

“You can savor when we reach the summit.”

One foot in front of the other. Each consecutive crunch was the most satisfying sound they’d ever heard. “Don’t you know,” they took a moment to taste the wind again, “That it’s all about the journey?”

Adrenaline carried them forward, even in the absence of Gilgamesh’s voice. It crackled over the well of exhaustion that came with waking at 2am for a climb leaving them floating, carried up the mountain on that wave of something new.

“I only learned that recently.” Gilgamesh confessed.

“You’re getting sappy!”

“Yes. You have ruined me.”

The mountain stopped abruptly several yards ahead, leaving only sky behind. Enkidu kept their eyes fixed on the path. “Ruined you in a good way.”

The world opened up before them.

The world was mountains- Hundreds of peaks coated in snow, some scraping the sky and some disappearing into the clouds below. Enkidu breathed in winter and breathed out awe. Gilgamesh pressed in close beside them. “What does it look like to you?” His voice was soft, tempered by the harsh winds.

Enkidu took a moment to find their voice. “It looks,” And how to describe it? It felt like they’d opened their eyes for the first time. A rush of sensory input that washed them away. It felt like birthdays. It felt like adventure. It felt like leaping into a pristine lake, with no thought to the water’s depth. Most of all it felt like the future.

Enkidu turned their head to brush their nose against Gilgamesh’s. Brief contact in lieu of an ice-studded kiss. He nuzzled back.

And as their heart beat against their chest, they did not think of lions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for joining me on this journey! I might write a few drabbles in this universe and Complementary's universe, but this is over for now. 
> 
> Some notes:   
> 1\. Gilgamesh is a total mama's boy in the Epic.  
> 2\. I can't decide what happened to Enkidu's original heart. Either they kept it, or Asclepius took it as a souvenir.   
> 3\. Asclepius was invited to the dinner before the exhibition, but got caught up in prep work, and missed it entirely.   
> 4\. Kingu drops out of grad school after Enkidu has their surgery. He was mostly there to watch over them. Shortly after he drops out, he gets a job that pays well enough to live on his own. Enkidu moves in with Gilgamesh.  
> 5\. If it wasn't obvious, Avicebron is Asclepius's colleague. He's the one who made Enkidu's new heart.   
> 6\. Enkidu and Gilgamesh go to Island Peak at the end of the story. They travel a lot.   
> 7\. Several people associated with the museum knew about Enkidu and Kingu's origin. Their moms, obviously. Lugalbanda, Ninsun, Goetia, Dr. Roman, and Ishtar, Ereshkigal, and their parents also knew.   
> 8\. Shamhat works for Ishtar. She's the employee Ishtar mentions in chapter 4.  
> 9\. The boy at the bus stop that Fulanah should really talk to is Sigma.   
> 10\. Shirou's retained his Hero mentality here. He gets beaten up a lot.   
> 11\. After Enkidu gets their PhD, they go to work for Gilgamesh's museum.   
> 12\. Enkidu and Kingu can't shapeshift in this AU. They're too stuck in their humanoid bodies. They can, however, change how human/clay their bodies are. They have to keep consuming clay for the rest of their lives. Luckily they don't have to eat it. The strawberry flavoring Enkidu bought still lays forgotten in the back of a cupboard in their apartment. It will remain there even after they move out. Forgotten. Abandoned. Covered in dust.

**Author's Note:**

> Another case of "I have only the vaguest idea of where this is going, but we're posting this anyway." 
> 
> It's Gilkidu Hell. We're all just living in it.
> 
> I wanted to include No Name Assassin in here, and this time I was more determined. Going with the whole "no name" theme, I looked up Arabic placeholder names (like John/Jane Doe). "Fulanah" is an Arabic placeholder name for a woman borrowed from Spanish and a few other languages. 
> 
> If you're more familiar with the language than I am (my knowledge is absolutely limited) and know of something better/think this isn't an appropriate name, I'm open to changing it!


End file.
